


Cocky boys

by thebookhunter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Attempt at Humor, Bottom!Loki, Hate Sex, I see it as a smutty take on a Katharine Hepburn/Spencer Tracy movie, Love/Hate, M/M, Power Play, Smutty roughhousing, Surprise! It's angst!, Top!Loki, Top!Thor, a reader suggested it, and stuff, bottom!Thor, fluffy hardcore smut, i love this tag, loki swears a lot, only with anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 56,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebookhunter/pseuds/thebookhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power" (Oscar Wilde)</p><p>In which Thor and Loki are the top stars in a studio of online porn, famously hate each other, but by popular vote they get paired to perform together in the Christmas Eve Live Event, and are not happy about it.</p><p>Based on my own prompt   (damn why do I get myself into these things) (find it here because as of now the link isn't fucking working)</p><p>http://incredifishface.tumblr.com/post/122072106224/thorki-au-want-i-have-a-mighty-need-and-a</p><p> </p><p>(does that quote up there make me sound super cultured? Heh, I heard it in House of Cards)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clash of the Titans

**Author's Note:**

> Now, a word of warning. Here be hate sex, a power struggle, and two very proud, stubborn men trying to make a point. They’re playing a game, conquering without being conquered, and they get a bit rough (slapping, biting and scratching occur). So at times it may sound to some as dub-con and even non-con, but I can assure you that it isn’t. That's why I'm not tagging it like that. They’re just big kids roughhousing, I swear. I’ve exaggerated everything, for (hopefully) humorous purposes.
> 
> Nonetheless, if anything but unambiguous consent is a problem for you, give this one a miss.

(Behold this incredible art by Noirefilthythoughts!! Fucking stunning!!)

 

 

“You did _what_?”

It’s not like Tony had expected a hug and a kiss when Loki had stormed into his office like a snow blizzard, but that furious green leer had him cowering a bit just the same.

“We were being bombarded with messages asking why you were not on the poll…” he explained.

“How is that my fucking problem?!” snarled Loki.

“Loki, sweetheart…”

“Don’t you fucking sweetheart me, Tony! You were completely out of line! I’m sorry, but you have to pull me out of it!”

“But darling, it’s too late, the poll’s already closed…”

“See how fucking bothered I am!” roared Loki. “I never fucking consented to this!”

“Weeeell…” said Tony, who may have had a copy of the contract made ready for such an eventuality, appropriately highlighted for ease of perusal. “You may have, a little,” he said, his tone meek. Submission worked better with Loki in this mood.

Loki duly examined the document, and his signature at the bottom. When he lifted his eyes back to Tony, they were narrowed down to an angry, nay, a murderous squint.

“You bastard,” he hissed. But he didn’t have a leg to stand on, and he knew it. “You could have fucking asked me. Or warned me, at the very fucking least.”

Tony put on an angelic smile.

“I could have, but you would have said no.”

“Of fucking course I would have said no!” roared Loki, slamming the stack of paper on the table. “I’m not a fucking piece of meat for you to auction! And what happens to my right to veto my work partners?

Ah, that.

“Well, yes, technically that still applies, but…” Tony pushed the other document he had had prepared since the poll had ended.

Loki had a glance. His expression changed to a lovely blend of astonishment and scepticism.

“What fucking currency is that? Yen?”

“American dollars, sweetheart,” said Tony. “And if you reach above a certain number of hits, this is the percentage you’ll get.” He pointed at the figure, just in case Loki had missed it.

…And now Tony was able to say that he had seen Loki Laufeyson’s impressed face. It was an exclusive club indeed.

“You expect to make millions out of this, don’t you?” said Loki. For his usual ice-cool, unflappable self, he sounded almost shocked.

“The response has been huge,” explained Tony. “It has blown all our expectations out of the water. And you two have coped over 85 percent of the votes. It will be massive, the biggest event in the industry in ages. You don’t want to be left out of this, trust me.”

Loki seemed to be giving the figures in the contract some serious thought, his quick brain surely handling plenty more variables besides money.

“You know,” mused Tony, “we have dozens of people every day offering us little fortunes for even ten minutes simply in his presence. You’re getting a king’s ransom for what others would sell their grandma’s jewels for.”

The scowl was back on Loki’s face.

“But I’ll be having to put up with a lot more than just his _presence_ , won’t I?” he spat.

The prospect put a dreamy smile on Tony’s face. 

“Oh yes…” He loved his job, ok?

Loki huffed, nostrils still flaring with unspent fury. Then a calculating glint in his eye.

“I want the same percentage on the rest of my movies,” he said. “Starting today.”

Ah, clever Loki. There would surely be a surge of hits on his past films after the Christmas Pairing was announced. Tony pretended he was giving it some thought. Pepper was going to kill him, but…

“Alright.”

Loki huffed, resignation starting to win over the annoyance. 

“Fine, ok,” he relented, his tone and his expression suggesting he believed that Tony was going to owe him a lot more than just money for this. “But if you ever so much as dream of pulling anything like that on me again, I’m going to cut your balls and Pepper can make herself a keychain.”

Tony raised his hands, appeasing.

“I swear.”

“Don’t bother,” grumbled Loki, making his way out of the office, long, dramatic strides. “I can do that myself.”

 

*

 

If they managed to take this ship to port, reconciling the two sides of this argument should give Tony and Pepper enough diplomatic credit to handle peace talks in Israel. They were trying to agree on a choreography, but they might as well be trying to parcel up post-war Berlin. Five minutes in, and they had already hit a wall (a shallow, Stark, be optimistic. ’Tis but a shallow.) That being, Thor and Loki were both tops.

Elaborate: Thor’s cock was famous, one of his, uh, greatest assets, along with his legendary stamina, his dashing looks, and his truly epic libido (it was a well-loved story in the business that time when Thor had shot three scenes in a day, and then took one of his co-stars home on a date; though not one of the co-stars who had bottomed for him. Those would have had as much of Thor’s cock as they could take any given Friday. Hung as a horse, randy as a goat, the looks of a god — the man was a gift from the heavens unto the world of adult cinema. All Hail Thor.) And so, even though Thor said he was perfectly happy to bottom, and that he enjoyed it immensely, and did it every now and then in his movies, the fans wanted to see him top. They would surely be expecting it in The Christmas Live Event.

Now, as for Loki. Loki was fine with bottoming in his private life (Tony had had first experience of this early on in their acquaintance, _sigh_ ), but not on the job. He simply did not want assorted semi-strangers sticking anything up his ass, and being paid for it.

But of course, there had to be anal.

But of course, the fans wanted to see Thor top.

But of course, Loki did not bottom.

But of course, there had to be anal.

But of course, Tony needed a painkiller for his head. They were caught in a loop from hell.

There was a reason why Tony swore by Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts. 

“Gentlemen,” she cut in, with the smoothness and effectiveness of a Japanese sushi knife. "This is not going anywhere. Why don't we try to reach a compromise?"

And proceeded to suggest that they both did everything, both giving and receiving in every posture. Then she outlined the advantages of a balanced, equal performance for their respective statuses in the business (the part where this saved both their faces when they agreed to it didn’t need stating).

A recess was called for the boys to consult this solution with their agents. Tony hovered about, pretending first to be getting himself something from his jacket, and then pretending to be reaching for the biscuit tray, so that he could eavesdrop while they boys conferred on their opposite ends of the table. Sif was fiercely protective of Thor, and usually acted as a firewall between her client’s bonhomie and generous disposition and this greedy world, which, when offered a hand, would always try to take the whole arm. With Darcy, it was the opposite. She was the voice of reason, as saucy as she was sensible, and very often the only thing that stood between Loki’s full-tilt diva temper tantrums and whosoever was signing his pay check that day. True to their customary roles, Sif was advising Thor to have a good think about what the fans would be expecting from him on such a significant occasion, while Darcy was listening only with half an ear to whatever string of angry hissing Loki was showering her with, while examining a chip in her deep red nail polish.

So, although he could see the merit in Pepper’s solution, Tony was not hopeful. He would have to take matters into his own hands.

He ambushed Loki by the drinks vending machine. Loki glowered at him from the corner of his eye, grimaced when the sip of black coffee scalded his infamous silvertongue.

“Imagine The Mighty Thor impaled on your cock for all the world to see,” murmured Tony over his shoulder, like a tiny red devil, cape and horns and pointy tail and all. “And then imagine his face as you wreck him with those magical belly-dance moves of yours. Don't you know how sensitive he is?”

Loki ignored him, completely impervious to his arguments. Ok, maybe not the best approach.

“Imagine the hits,” tried Tony then. “The one time Loki Laufeyson bottomed on camera. Have you got any idea about the thirst there is to see that? Think of the money…”

Not that Loki was not scowling anymore, but he looked a bit less… rigid.

“Does it have to be with _him_?” he hissed.

Tony’s eyes glinted.

“Forget about your feelings, use your head. Who else should do it? Who else could measure up to you? Thor Odinson, the king himself, nobody else. Clash of the titans. Epic.”

Confident that he had made some inroads there, and that Loki was maturing the idea, mostly from the lack of snarky retorts, Tony took his leave. 

When Sif took a powder-room break, Tony made his move on Thor. His greatest star was sprawling on his chair, checking his stats on google. 

“So,” said Tony. “Sif is reluctant, isn’t she?”

“The Christmas Fuck is my thing,” Thor said, probably parroting his agent’s words. “It’s my present to the fans. The fans like me topping but, so far, it doesn’t seem that they like me bottoming so much. On a day with so much exposure, I can’t risk alienating the fanbase.”

“Hm,” Tony pretended to be giving that argument due consideration. Then he leaned over and lowered his voice almost to a whisper, conspiring. “But you are The Mighty Thor… The fans don’t tell you what they like, you tell _them_ what to like…” Tony gave him a second to feel it. “And just think about it for a second. Think of Mr. Ice Princess here, all haughty and puffed-up. He has no idea, does he?, with those lanky, pretty fucks he’s usually paired with, of what a power bottom really feels like. Why don’t you show him?”

Thor finally deigned himself to lift his eyes from the screen and look at Tony, under a frown.

“And what do you get in return?” murmured Tony, aiming for the kill. “You will be the first to take that gorgeous ass for all the world to see. Nobody else. Just think about it…”

There. Tony had not missed it, that sparkle in Thor’s eye. He didn’t miss it either when Thor ran an appreciative gaze over Loki’s pert, denim-clad, frankly _perfect_ behind. Because Thor loved his job, and that love was not platonic.

A noisy silence while everybody returned to their seats.

“So, gentlemen,” said Pepper. “Where do we stand?”

The agents conferred with their clients. Then they crossed a look with each other along the table, daring the other one to speak first.

“He’ll do it, for an extra five percent,” announced Darcy.

“Two,” said Pepper.

“Three and a half.”

“Three.”

“Deal.”

The men had witnessed the quick exchange as if at a tennis match.

“Thor?” urged Pepper.

“Same deal,” said Sif, thinking on her feet.

“Tony?” said Pepper.

Tony sighed.

“Fine, fine, fine. But I’m cutting my own throat.”

“Excellent,” said Pepper. “Now, let’s move on to the gory details…”

After that, it wasn’t all that hard, just a bit cumbersome. Tony said what he wanted, the agents consulted their clients, the clients whispered into their agents’ ears, and the agents conveyed their agreement and/or their amends and counter offers. For the most part, the boys agreed (Tony didn’t want anything outlandish for Christmas, just a nice, vigorous fuck, in an assortment of photogenic postures. It was basically the studio's Christmas card after all), but always making the point that the other one accepted first. It was a bit like a school yard. 

“Any questions?” said Tony.

“Do we have to do the introductions?” asked Thor.

“Yes.”

“Do we have to kiss?” said Loki, with distaste.

That put a stormy look on Thor’s face.

“Yes,” said Tony.

“Can’t we have fluffers?” groaned Thor.

“Fluffers?!” exclaimed Tony, outraged. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had been a long morning. “Listen, dears, I’m afraid you have to do the whole thing, alright? Introductions, talk about it a little, make out, undress, the whole shebang. And you have to start soft. People love to watch you guys turn each other on and get hard. You’ve done enough work for me to know how it goes. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable.”

Thor and Loki traded a quick, hostile glare and looked in opposite directions. They crossed their arms over their chest at the same time. It was pleasant to the eye, what with the symmetry and all, kind of yin and yang. 

“If that will be all,” said Tony, “I’ll see you gentlemen on Christmas Eve. Don’t forget the gym, yeah?”

 

Alone in the room now, tidying up his notes, Tony felt Pepper’s eyes burning the back of his head.

“Yes, dear?” he said.

“Are you really, really sure this is a good idea?” 

“Best I’ve ever had,” beamed Tony, “trust me.”

“They hate each other,” she observed. “And I’m talking archenemies, _you’re my mortal nemesis_ kind of hatred. Do you think they’ll be able to hide it?”

“Oh,” grinned Tony, “I don’t think they’ll even try.”

 

*

 

Tony raised his eyebrows when he saw Loki strutting into the set. Must have been the first time in his life he was the first to get there. Tony observed him have a wary look around the room. They were in the lounge of a gentlemen’s club they had rented for the day, all dark wood and red upholstery (very Christmassy), the floors thick with rugs and carpets in rich red and gold, miniature oil paintings with old-fashioned hunting scenes on the walls. Very masculine, very understated, stylish in an old-fashioned kind of way, and hardly what one would ever expect to see in the backdrop of a porn film. Perfect. There was a big, traditional Christmas tree on a corner, and even a huge fireplace the sound techs had been trying (and failing miserably so far) to light up. The lighting crew were busy creating a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

“You like it?” asked Tony.

“Very cosy,” said Loki dryly.

“This is the rocking chair where I’ve thought you could suck him, and the fainting couch is going to be great for him to ride you. Then I thought he could do you on this armchair. How does that sound?”

Loki gave him a dark look instead of a reply.

“Is that what you’re going to wear?” asked Tony. His boys always started fully dressed, except for shoes and socks (it was a mood killer to see them taking them off, for some reason), and wore casual clothing. It all helped to build up the impression that they were simply two very hot guys who had just met and hit it off, and were going for it before the audience’s very own, very greedy eyes. He never put them in firefighter costumes or created fictional plots. His boys were real people. It was such a turn on.

“Yes. Problem?” snapped Loki.

“Not at all, you look ravishing,” said Tony quickly. “But, well… leather pants?”

“ _What_.”

“Won’t they…? I mean, when you start, um, sweating… what if they get, uh, stuck? Oh, dear god, don’t tell me you’ve put powders on or something…”

Loki narrowed his eyes into a menacing squint.

“Ok, ok, whatever. I trust your judgement. You’re a professional.”

“Who’s a professional?” boomed Thor’s gruff, husky voice as he made his grand entrance, gorgeous in plain dark blue jeans and a tight red t-shirt that showed off his glorious muscles. He gave Loki a quick once-over, and cocked an eyebrow, with a smirk. Loki rolled his eyes and looked away, scowling.

“We all are,” said Tony. “And now that we’re all here, let’s go over this again, shall we?”

They had one last look at the choreography, making sure everyone was on the ball with the approximate time frames for each, uh, exercise, then Tony gave them an overview of the shots he was aiming for, so that his actors could plan accordingly to accommodate them. There would be three cameras, one following each of the boys, ready with the close-ups, and then the great Phil Coulson would be in charge of the third one, doing what his artistic sense dictated. 

When they were done, Thor just _had_ to go and rearrange the furniture, muttering something about optics, cinematography and the Golden Ratio, to Loki’s silent (and yet perfectly _audible_ ) scoff of derision. Then Thor took over the hearth from the small crowd of techs, who might have never been in contact with real fire for all the progress they were making, and in ten minutes he had it going, with the logs arranged in an aesthetically pleasing pile. It was small and lively and lovely, but it threw enough heat to have Tony stealing quick, worried glances at Loki’s leather pants again. 

When Thor rejoined them, he looked rather smug. Then again, that was his default mode. Loki’s expression, on the other hand, could have curdled milk. (And yes, same.)

They both took their shoes and socks off, and started with their warming-up and stretching exercises. Tony could not help the expression on his face, tender and proud. Look at them, his babies, all grown up. He had introduced them to the business, plucked them from an anonymous sea of faces, and nurtured and pruned and trained them to become the porn gods they were today.

Loki folded himself in half like it was nothing, leather taut on his magnificent butt, with that fabled flexibility of his. It had stolen the viewers’ heart from the very first moment, and had now obviously also piqued Thor’s interest — he had frozen still, mid shoulder stretch, watching him. Tony remembered the first time he had seen Loki, on stage with his shitty little band. While the rest of the members were just, well, playing music, Loki was up there making love to the audience, those lizardly, feline moves, that look in his eyes, scorching hot, that purr of a voice that did all sorts of things to Tony’s composure. He had courted him for weeks, chasing him to do a screen test for him. All he had to do was jerk off, but oh, the way he had looked straight into the objective, the sounds he made, the filthy things he said… He nearly melted the lens, and the guy who was filming it. And soon after, it had been that multi-award-winning fuck in the woods that had the critics fawning over the new, uh, face of gay porn (and his partner on that occasion, the usually unruffled Fandral, still sighed when they reminded him of that film). It had been the final bang to place Stark Studios on the map, and mark it as a completely new thing, different from any other company out there producing online porn. Oh, Loki, his gorgeous, wicked, haughty prince, and his wondrous, uh, leaning ivory tower. Pepper did not agree, but Tony thought he was worth every headache, every tantrum and every fit of rage.

And Thor? Tony had spotted him in the dark room of a gay club, the physical centre of an impromptu orgy, taking care of four men at once (five if you counted the one that could not await his turn and was on the floor humping his leg). And the joy he radiated while he did it, the unabashed, almost naive relish. He single-handedly (well, no, with both hands actually, alongside with other appendices, and his mouth) was making something sublime out of what had every potential to become a pretty seedy situation. Tony knew there and then that he had found the cornerstone of his future smutty empire, the very embodiment of his vision.

Before he became the force of nature he was today, his big golden stud had needed a bit of a polish, diamond in the rough that he was, because fucking and fucking _for the camera_ are two completely different things. But they didn’t _have_ to look like two different things, did they? And that was the germ of Tony’s idea when he had set up this little business venture of his. A renewed, determinedly non-sleazy approach to adult cinema. While the bulk of the industry seemed to be veering more and more towards some seriously fucked-up, frankly horrifying extremes of dehumanised brutality and degradation, the surge in popularity of homemade, amateur porn suggested to Tony that there was a different market out there, full of people who just wanted to watch other people enjoying a bit of good old sexy funtimes together. Perhaps he could interest them in, say, a professional take on that? 

It all flowed from there. Instead of the tacky sets and the sad dungeons many professional porn films were offering, how about some real, sunlit, open, even outdoors locations. Instead of monster-cocks, disturbing props, and all that damned ugliness, how about pretty boys who did not _look_ like porn actors, but like real people, only young and fresh and hot, and nicely matched, who were happy to be there and actually having a good time together? Instead of humiliation and degradation and cringingly extreme sex acts, how about some kissing and laughing and eye contact and even some talking? Then some elegant, tasteful photography, and the famous part, now trademark of the house, in which the performers introduced themselves (because there was no shame in being a porn actor; that was the idea anyway) and chatted for a moment, humanising themselves and the situation to the viewer, before they got on with it. Everything was pretty and tasteful and well-balanced in his movies, from the performers to the locations to the composition of the scenes; everything sunny and joyful and fun. 

Thor had taken to that philosophy like a duck to water, and his natural charisma and enthusiasm (and his physical gifts, of course) had instantly attracted attention, critical acclaim, and an ever-expanding fanbase. Today, Thor Odinson stood head and shoulders above any other porn actor Tony had ever seen, so expressive, so horny, able to convey lust and sensation and spontaneity like none other. He always looked so excited to be there, so randy, so full of lust for his partner (or partners), and with his Olympic form, no posture was out of his reach. He really was The Complete Artist.

Yes, Tony worshipped these two boys, and had been trying to make them work together for a long time, but Loki had reacted with a loud “No fucking way in hell!” the one time he had suggested it, and when that had reached Thor’s ears, he had been deeply offended. They hated each other, and everybody knew.

But it was more than that single incident. It was a personality issue first and foremost. Thor took his job very seriously. It was his full-time occupation. He loved to be a porn actor, and he went out of his way to be the best he could be. For Loki, it was nothing but an occasional hobby he just happened to have a knack for, without having to work for it. Even though it was the only one of his professional pursuits that actually brought him real critical recognition and popularity, he held it in very low regard. He considered himself a writer first (he was a published author - one bildungsroman composed mainly of self-pitying rants, and two books of angsty, cryptic poetry, with a fanatical, yet extremely limited following), a singer and a musician next (not that the band would ever amount to much, but Loki craved the thrill of a live audience’s worship), and only very lowly in his scale of priorities was this fucking on camera business. He enjoyed a certain lifestyle, and none of his other endeavours could support it. And so, every now and then, he would condescend to grace the screens with his lovely face and even lovelier body, and made a film with Tony.

Because he did not do many movies, when he made one, they were hugely anticipated. Which for Thor, who hated Loki’s standoffish, dismissive approach, only added insult to injury. Loki in turn resented the minor social phenomenon Thor had become, which reached even beyond the industry. He had been on the cover of Time Magazine, goddammit, with a feature on his life, and an interview and everything, as if he was doing something meaningful, for fuck’s sake! He was only a porn actor, had the world gone fucking mad? No, _of course_ Loki was _not_ jealous, he was in outrage and despair at the stupidity and the banality of the human race!

And even their very acting styles clashed. While Loki seemed always aware of the camera, and usually made a point of eye-fucking the audience to a mush, Thor really could make it feel as if the camera had never been there in the first place, pulling the viewer into the room with him.

Thor had called him a pretentious diva, a cold fish, and an envious little shit. Loki had called him a brainless oaf, a brute with more cock than sense, and there was this mean tweet attributed to him floating around the net, in which he allegedly quipped that Thor was so full of himself, his next project should be the porn version of _Cast Away_.

It might very well be, and Tony did not discount it, that the audience had had this animosity in mind when doing their frenzied clicking. And with the energy in the studio thrumming with his stars’ mutual antipathy, Tony thought that, if hate-sex is what they wanted, hate-sex they were going to get. 

 

Three minutes.

“Ok then, kids. Battle stations,” said Tony.

They had prepared a pile of fluffy cushions by the fire, where the action was set to begin. Loki sat down on it as rigidly as if they were sacs of cement, while grumbling, “Yes, let’s get this over and done with.”

Thor grunted something unpleasant under his breath. Loki, of course, could not have possibly heard it from his superior stance. In any case, he did not react, but carried on examining his nail polish — smoked black quartz with sparkles, like chips of mica, classy as fuck. Thor took his place next to him, thighs sprawled wide, and adjusted himself to make sure the bulge of his cock was clearly visible through the fabric of his jeans, so that the viewers wouldn’t miss it as it got hard. Tony took the sight of his two stars in for a moment, how very nicely they clashed together, the giving sun with its warming rays, and the moon, radiant, remote, and cold. (Hopefully not _too_ cold.)

“Oh, one more thing, guys,” he said. “If you could just, uh, maybe tone it down a little?”

“Tone what down?”

“If you could, well, pretend that you don’t absolutely hate it to be here…”

Loki gave him his famous psychotic shark smile. Thor took the Sarcastic Toothpaste Ad approach.

“Rrrright,” said Tony.

Behind him, everyone shared a look of concern - Nat (IT), Clint (control), Sam (trouble-shooter, Renaissance man, it was his first week) and Wanda (cinema major intern, had been there for yonks). The lighting and sound crew didn’t seem too sure either.

The Christmas Live Event was going to be _live_.

Nat and Clint gave them the ok, and Tony started the countdown. Loki gave his ink-black locks a fluff (he was really a ginger, just don't tell anyone), Thor made himself comfortable, sprawling even more, invading Loki’s space, which got him a kick on the shin. Tony silently prayed to the gods above (or below, or to the sides, beggars can’t be choosers), and gave the signal.

Aaaand we’re online. May god have mercy upon our souls.

The air in the room buzzed with tension for a few seconds, the crackle of the fire the only saving grace. The boys appeared to be waiting for the other one to go first. But Thor was making a stand, so Loki rolled his eyes and, looking into the camera, he forced a sarcastic grin.

“Hello, I’m Loki Laufeyson.”

“And you all know who I am,” beamed Thor, megawatt smile.

Loki rolled his eyes even more, a huff of irritation.

“And we’re going to fuck,” said Thor, greedy eyes on Loki.

“Happy Christmas,” hissed Loki with displeasure.

And then he deigned to return Thor’s look, with a dark scowl of pure spite. Thor had a brazen, shit-eating smirk. Hate me as much as you like, he seemed to be saying, I’m still going to have your ass.

Right now, Tony wasn’t so sure about that. He gulped.

Thor made a move, Loki pulled back. Oh-kaaaay. The filming crew traded worried looks. Thor leaned over again. Loki tilted his head back and away, his eyes a fixed green flame of simmering contempt. 

Well. 

Thor hooked one hand around the back of Loki’s neck, and pulled him towards him. Loki fought, trying to make it difficult rather than impossible, his expression saying loud and clear, “I wouldn’t if I were you, but I fucking dare you.”

Thor smirked some more, self-assured, and plunged in for the kiss. Loki stood still and irresponsive. Tony ran one hand down his face anxiously, shifty on his feet. Then Thor pushed his tongue in, and Loki showed teeth, and bit down. A pained groan from Thor as he jumped back, touching his mouth. And was that blood in his lip? That had been no playful nibble…

Thor snatched Loki by the neck again, this time no fucking around, and very bravely risked kissing him again, a sloppy, hungry kiss that took Loki by surprise. He raised one hand and Tony thought he was going to brush it on Thor’s long blond hair. Hah, as if. Loki got a handful and yanked hard. Another groan from Thor, but this time of a completely different nature. Because as Loki was tugging, he was also kissing back. And how. Never had the expression “tongues battling for dominance” been more on point. Thor’s crotch was already showing some serious strain. Tony wiped a little tear, which always appeared in the presence of that gravity-defying prodigy that was his greatest star’s mighty endowment.

Well, they were finally kissing, fiercely, aggressively even, but aside from that claw on Loki’s neck and that clasp on Thor’s hair, they were not touching… Thor grabbed Loki’s wrist and led his hand to his own crotch, biceps bulging when Loki offered resistance. Testimonial, really — Thor’s arm was twice as wide as Loki’s, he had no chance to beat him like that. But when Loki’s hand made contact with Thor’s crotch, he didn’t go for the cock, he went for his balls. And he squeezed. Thor’s eyes went wide and a bit teary. 

And now Thor was angry. He gripped the neck of Loki’s shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying in all directions. Loki paled with outrage, and slapped his face. Thor smirked, his cheek red. Loki was panting. There was no telling what he would do next. 

They pounced on each other like two cats at play, and started rolling on the floor in a frenzy, trying to come on top. (The cameras had to scramble away. Clint looked horrified at the screens.) Thor was stronger and heavier, but Loki kept doing this thing with his legs that had Thor toppling to the side and then flat on his back, with a whole lotta Loki on top of him, sinking his nails in his scalp as he plundered Thor’s mouth like this was the sack of Rome. Thor had his hands wherever he could reach, but he kept returning to Loki’s ass, and the huffs and gasps they both made when Thor crushed their groins together, as he pushed up with his hips… In between rolling and tumbling, their shirts had come off. We’re starting to get somewhere, thought Tony, with a sigh of relief.

Too soon, as it turned out. Loki had been struggling to get Thor off him for a while with what, for him, would count as clean methods, but with Thor’s thigh between his, he could not do that judo or wrestling key or whatever it was. So he sunk his nails in his back, and when Thor twisted in pain and gave him an angle, he punched his stomach, kicked him off, and fled. (Nat turned to Tony, a slight frown on her face, and typed something. Warnings for violence, probably.)

Loki was leaning on the wall, recovering his breath, and Thor was standing up, coughing and gasping and pretty fucking furious. 

“Sam, get me Pepper on the phone, quick,” muttered Tony, eyes fixed on the scene before him.

“What do you need?” said Sam, dialling.

“Legal question. If they kill each other doing this, are we liable?”

Thor took two energetic steps towards Loki, and then froze solid, as Loki slowly, deliberately, undid his pants, button by button, and pulled his cock out, giving it some languorous strokes. Thor gulped, Tony was able to see it from where he was standing, and the camera close to his face would surely be showing his pupils blown wide. 

“Only if they can prove we didn’t take the reasonable safety precautions,” reported Sam, finishing the call.

“Like _not_ putting them together in the same room with a camera?” whispered Nat.

Thor walked to Loki smoothly, and leaned closer with one arm propped on the wall by Loki’s side. Not without some caution, is fair to say, he ran the big, rough palm of his hand down Loki’s thigh, pushing his pants further down, and then up, raking upwards, feeling the skin. Loki didn’t try to bite him or scratch him, (he was just there, glaring at him with eyes sharp as cut emeralds, that infuriatingly sexy vaguely-there smile) so Thor went for the kiss. Unbeknownst to Thor, Loki had been snaking his hand up, and had got a whole head of Thor’s hair in his hand. With a contemptuous smirk and a vicious twist that made Thor groan, Loki forced him down to his knees. 

“Then again,” muttered Natasha, “if they should ask for compensation, we can probably afford it.”

That got Tony’s attention.

“Give me numbers,” he said.

She angled one of her monitors towards him. Tony raised both eyebrows now.

“Yikes.”

Thor was on his knees before Loki, hands on the slender hips, and Loki was looking down on him like a victorious warrior would stare at his war trophy. Still with that grip on Thor’s hair, he held himself in hand and stroked his cock on Thor’s lips. Thor allowed it, looking up with a wicked leer. Then he stuck his tongue out, and Loki’s jaw fell open, his brow scrunched up. He kept rubbing his cock on Thor’s tongue, as his breathing became heavier and sharper. Thor opened his mouth, and Loki pushed in. When Thor hollowed his cheeks around Loki's cock, Loki did no more than gasp, but as he thrusted gently, his expression tensed, his breathing rushing, and then finally, finally, with Thor’s tongue working him inside his mouth, there was a soft moan. Oh, how the viewers loved to see that cold arrogance and self-control breaking down, his face softening as he abandoned himself to sensation.

Thor must have felt Loki’s grip on his hair loosen. He grabbed Loki’s wrist and tore that claw off him. Then he gripped Loki's hips and held them in place. Loki groaned, went to grab his hair again, and then went pale and froze. With Loki’s cock still in his mouth, and a very eloquent smirk, Thor was cupping Loki’s balls. His expression said, “I wouldn’t if I were you, but I fucking dare you.” And gave it a little squeeze, to clarify his point. Loki whimpered, his chest heaving fast.

Thor let Loki’s cock out of his mouth and, with relish, he flicked his tongue under the head, teasing, tormenting. Loki whimpered again, his thigh trembled. Thor kept teasing with light licks and slow laps, just the tip of his tongue, and the camera was there on Loki’s face to show how he slowly fell apart, much to his own chagrin, and his body’s delight.

When Loki’s knees started to give, Thor pulled back, wiping his mouth, licking his lips. He got up and went to take a seat on the rocking chair. He looked almightily pleased with himself. He unzipped his own jeans and pushed them down, cock jutting up like the proudest flag pole. He crooked his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. He took in Loki's indignant, furious expression, _and winked_.

Tony looked at Clint, Clint looked at Nat. Loki’s eyes were burning with a flare of green poison.

“Be professional, guys…” mumbled Tony to himself, a little prayer.

WIth a look of dignified determination, Loki pushed his leather pants the rest of the way down and stepped out of them - his butt to the camera (there was a sudden surge in the comments section, mostly inarticulate random key smashes and fainting emojis). Like a stalking panther, he sauntered towards Thor, swinging his ass. He stood there above him, cocking his hip, and the whole world was able to see the dumbstruck expression on Thor’s face, and the twitches of his cock as it got even harder just from that view, just like a Labrador puppy wagging his tail at the prospect of a game of fetch.

At a leisurely pace, Loki sunk to his knees between Thor’s powerful thighs, eyes locked on his stunned catch at all times, a sultry, predatory gaze. And he dived in. Thor’s head fell back immediately, his mouth gaped wide, his eyes shut tight. Loki’s camera tried to show what he was doing to Thor, but it was impossible. They were able to show a nice, wide shot from the side that included all of Loki, featuring prominently his celebrated buttocks and his exquisite legs. 

And Thor was so expressive, bless him. He was moaning and groaning and shuddering and gasping, hands clutching tight the arms of the rocking chair. Hard to tell if he was being pleasured or gutted alive.

Wait. What an awfully disquieting notion.

“He’s not hurting him, is he?” said Tony.

Natasha shrugged.

“Oh my fucking god…” moaned Thor, his voice hoarse and choked, as Loki’s head started to bob faster between his legs, turning this well-seasoned, vastly experienced professional into something you could spread on toast. “Oh my god… oh dear god… oh god… oh sweet Jesus… oh my god…”

Nat and Clint exchanged a look. He wasn’t usually this _religious_ , was he?

Thor tried to stroke Loki’s hair. Loki sunk his nails in Thor's forearm, and removed his hand. After a minute, Thor tried again. It seemed an unconscious gesture — he did not look very focused. Loki didn’t use his nails this time. Thor jolted, and went a bit white.

“Yup, man,” muttered Clint, swapping shots, “you may not want to piss off the guy who’s got a full set of teeth around your manhood…”

Ah, Thor wasn’t without resources either. With Loki's attention distracted, he sucked his fingers wet and stooped low over Loki’s back, to reach between his buttocks. Loki would have prepared himself earlier, and he was obviously very aroused, so, before he could realise, Thor had one thick, playful finger buried to the second crook inside his ass. Loki's back tensed so beautifully - Thor knew what he was doing. What a lovely scene they made, working each other in a balanced composition, the fireplace to the left, the heated action to the right, the flames gilding their naked bodies. Tony sat down on the director’s chair and crossed his legs. 

It was a bit like a raunchy take on a shampoo ad when Loki raised his head from that prominent, glorious erection and shook his hair loose, thick and luscious, that deep reddish hue under the warm light of the flames (and the artfully arranged lighting rig). His lips were puffy, edges diffuminated into pink, chin shiny with drool. Thor was looking at him with heavy lidded, drowsy eyes, and his million dollar grin. His glans was deep purple. It had been thoroughly sucked.

Loki got up and went to take his place on the fainting couch. He didn't so much sit down as sprawl on it, and started to stroke lazily his own cock — and what a beautiful cock it was, and the world agreed; long, of a nice girth, not donkey-hung but pleasantly, elegantly so, like everything else about his body.

He crooked his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion, a cockeyed smile and a green leer, but at least he did not wink. Or blink, for that matter. If Loki ever entered a staring contest with a crocodile, Tony would not be sure where to put his money on. 

Thor's knees may have been a bit wobbly when he got on his feet, but he was nothing if not determined. He even managed to drop his jeans as he walked towards him (once he was sure that there was a camera behind him to catch it) without tripping or losing step. And oh, that was one smooth, shapely ass, that muscled back, that slim waist. Where did he even fucking come from, what planet? Tony, rock hard himself, could almost hear the screeches and squees of the viewers at home, right from where he was sitting.

Loki put the condom and some lube on, discretely. Thor straddled him, reverse cowgirl - face to the camera (without looking into it though; he thought it was tacky) - but leaned slightly to the side so that Coulson could get a nice front shot of both his and Loki’s expressions as he lowered himself onto Loki’s cock.

Tony was on the edge of the seat, Clint was all hands on deck, Nat had an eye on the stats. Thor pushed down, a grimace, a gasp. Loki produced the most delightful “hnnnnng…” when Thor’s butt cheeks made contact with his groin. We have touchdown. Tony wanted to cry. It was so beautiful. Why didn’t people want to see Thor take a cock more often? Look at him, he was glowing! 

Thor did a few rolling motions, Loki bit his bottom lip hard. They were both panting, their faces wonderfully tense. And let’s get this rodeo started. Thor began to bounce on that lap like the power horse he was, quickly and tirelessly, his cock never flagging, but bobbing merrily between his legs as he slammed himself on Loki’s cock. Loki had one hand on Thor's hip, and the other one thrown across his face, head back, moaning, _meowing_ , jolted and jerked in the onslaught, the fainting couch creaking.

The allocated time frame for this posture came and went, no pun intended, and Thor showed no signs of stopping, testing the limits of Loki’s self-control.

“The fuck is he playing at?” murmured Tony between his teeth.

Loki’s sounds and expressions were worryingly nearing orgasmic now, as he pushed half-heartedly to try to unseat Thor, made weak by pleasure. Thor’s shit-eating grin as he fucked himself told Tony the answer to the question “is this intended?”

Loki was not beaten. He bit his lip hard, propped himself up, reached around Thor’s body, and started jerking him off in a frenzy. _That_ made Thor lose focus, and very soon, the hands he had been using to hold himself up as he bounced, he needed to get Loki off him, lest he came too soon, god forbid. And that’s when Loki did that thing again, hooking one leg around Thor’s ankle and pushing hard with the other, and Thor ended up on his face on the floor, shaking his head, panting, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

Loki looked so gorgeously debauched. He had been very close.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” mumbled Tony to no-one in particular, but glaring at Thor.

Loki’s expression went from a near-orgasmic daze to murderous intent in the space of a few deep breaths, as Thor got himself up, made his way to the cushioned armchair, and just stood there, rock hard (thigh muscles rosy with the strain and trembling a bit, let’s hope they’ll hold up), cocky smirk, waiting for Loki.

For a long minute, nobody moved. It was the last goddamn time Tony did anything live, he swore to himself. His heart could not fucking handle it.

Well, there was a pre-arranged choreography, and there was a contract that had been signed, and now Loki could be proud, or he could be rich. 

You know, for such an arrogant creature, Loki wasn’t half as hard-headed as they made him. His chin up and hips swinging, he strutted to the armchair and kneeled on it, ready to take one for the team. He threw a sizzling glare over his shoulder that stayed the hand Thor had on himself, and arched his back, sticking his butt out, the hottest, raciest pin-up. His expression was one of contempt. Come on, impress me.

The big moment had arrived. One day, guys, you’ll tell your children about this. I was there when Thor Odinson fucked Loki Laufeyson, live streaming to the entire worldwide web. Everybody was now on the edge of their seats, breaths baited.

Thor had other plans. He went down to his knees.

“What the fuck?” mumbled Tony.

He got himself two handfuls of Loki’s buttocks, held them apart, and gave the cleft of that ass one long, tortuous lap, from ballsack to tailbone.

“Ah?” gasped Loki with a frown, turning his head. He had not been expecting _that_.

Without giving him a moment to breathe, Thor started eating him out like there was no tomorrow. Loki held tight onto the back of the chair, knuckles white, and began to fall to pieces under Thor’s attentions. 

Now, rimming was something of a house specialty with Thor. His fans could not get enough of it, and his workmates spoke of his ass-eating skills with awe and wonder. Tony doubted he’d ever hear an admission of the sort out of Loki’s arrogant mouth, but it was there for the world to see, in the way Loki was arching his back, exposing more of himself to Thor’s mouth as he rubbed it on Loki’s hole. The moans and sighs coming from that sexy, snarky mouth were sweet as honey, his expression blissful, and how he was pushing back when Thor had one finger and his tongue going to town in that holy shrine of his.

With Loki boneless and whimpering, draped over the back of the chair, and after one long last lap, Thor considered that his point was made. And now, back with the program. He got up on his feet, took himself in hand, and rubbed the head of his cock against Loki’s flesh.

Still perched on the seat, Loki went from kneeling to crouching. What was he up to now, thought Tony. When Thor tried to stroke Loki's hair, he nearly had his hand bitten off for his bother. 

“Careful, dude, this end has teeth,” Tony heard Clint mumble. 

Condom on, lube, Thor lined himself up, and lifted his eyes to watch Loki’s half-turned face, that smouldering hot gaze he was throwing him. He gently started to push in.

Now, pride or no pride, if this was the one time Loki Laufeyson was going to get buggered on camera, he was going to make it as memorable for the viewers as it would be for him. When he felt Thor entering him, he let his eyes droop, tilted his head backwards, the arch of his throat and spine with all those lean muscles tensing up so beautifully, and exhaled, elegant always. Tony had hearts in his eyes, and Thor, fully sheathed inside him, had spaced out entirely. 

Natasha rolled back on her chair and gave Tony what, in her case, amounted to a look of total astonishment, _two_ raised eyebrows, as she turned the monitor for him to see. They were trending worldwide: # _thorfucksloki_.

While Thor was still on cloud 9, Loki started to move. His body snaked and bucked in a mesmerising, sinuous motion, taking Thor inside him, and in that position, and with so much strain on his thighs, possibly with a grip of steel around his cock. Tony squirmed in his seat in solidarity. Thor was still, watching in breathless awe the way his cock disappeared into Loki’s body. He struggled to keep his eyes open, his mouth was gaping wide, and he even risked putting one hand on Loki’s shoulder, to maintain position (verticality, if nothing else). He was always spontaneous and demonstrative, but now, being worked half to death by that foxy creature’s greedy, flexible, strong body, he looked like a total wreck. Now, when he tried to stroke (in reverence) Loki’s gorgeous thigh, muscles shifting under pale freckled skin as he moved, he got a sonorous slap on the hand.

It had to be really building up now, because the beast took over. Thor grabbed Loki’s hips and started hammering into him with all his vigour and all his hunger. Loki braced himself against the back of the chair and took it, his body shuddering with each thrust. And for the first time since they had started fucking, they heard him talk.

“Oh my f-… fucking god!” he yelped, and his voice broke into a moan, strangled, breathless.

Thor was ploughing him relentlessly, well above athletic, just under rough. Coulson gave his boss a pleading stare, and Tony gave him the go ahead. Phil moved in, trying to remain out of the way of the other cameras, and inconspicuous, to get a shot from below. This was not something that was usually done at Stark Studios, but Tony told himself he owed it to posterity. There it was — balls dangling, swung to and fro, mighty thighs bulging and tensing, and that legendary cock fucking that legendary ass, while Loki jerked off frantically.

When Loki’s moans became higher-pitched and more, desperate, his camera moved in for the big moment. In spite of the surging climax, Loki had the presence of mind to angle himself just right for a perfect, stylish even, beautiful cum shot.

Panting, spent, and definitely blissed out, he shook and rocked some more under Thor’s energetic last efforts. Then Thor pulled out, slipped the condom off in a hurry, took himself in hand, his expression one of devastation and utter ruin, and came on Loki’s rump (that had been Tony’s idea. It had cost him a couple more percents in Loki’s cut, but by god, it was worth it just for the look on Thor’s face, nothing short of pure shining love as he culminated his claim.)

And then Thor walked backwards until he hit the rocking chair, and collapsed. Meanwhile, Loki turned and slumped down on the armchair, chest heaving, sight out of focus, that lovely blush on his fair skin. 

Usually, at this point there would be some kissing, the boys would tell each other how much they had enjoyed themselves, and then wave goodbye sweetly to the viewers. But, since neither of his stars seemed able right now to formulate coherent sentences, Tony instructed Clint to go straight to the closing message with holiday wishes. And then Natasha took them down. They were offline.

Tony let out a deep sigh of relief. Mental note to self, make appointment with chiropractor. The tension, Jesus Christ!

When Natasha pushed the note with the total of hits his way, Tony did not need to do any math to see that these had been the most profitable forty-seven minutes in the whole of Stark Studios’ existence, even after you took the boys' cut out. He came from money, and before today he would have said that money did not impress him. He very nearly went and hugged his boys, spunky and sweaty as they were. History had been made.

The assistants moved in with the robes and the wet wipes and the energy drinks. The boys half-straightened up to receive them. Loki was the first to drag himself up to standing, his runway swag ruined by a stiff hip. His assistant walked ahead to show him the way to the club’s showers.

Thor was shaking his golden head as if to wake himself up, eyes still drowsy and out of focus. When he got up, his limbs looked heavy as lead, his movements sluggish. He made his way to the changing rooms with a withdrawn, faraway expression. 

 

“Where the fuck is everybody going?” snapped Tony.

The crew had started to stampede in all directions.

“Mostly, to their bunks,” said Natasha.

“Nobody leaves this room until the set is clear!” warned Tony. “No spunk on the upholstery, no condoms under the rug, and I want that fire put out! Safely!” He groused to himself, “I had to get a special permit for that.”

The crew grumbled as they reluctantly got to work.

“Oh, puh-leeese!” exclaimed Tony. “Find any other job that actually grants paid jerk-off breaks if you can, and then be my guest to take it. In the meantime, chop-fucking-chop!” Then he turned, raised an eyebrow. “Where are Clint and Nat?”

Sam and Wanda traded a little glance.

“Oh, nevermind. Sam, call Pepper. I need to see her in my office right now. Tell her to bring Jarvis.” He popped his head back in again. “Uh, make sure there are lots more ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ when you talk to her.” And he dashed down the hallway, headed for his car.

“Who is Jarvis?” said Sam.

“The strap-on,” said Wanda, busy rolling up cables.

Sam’s eyes widened with a look of shock and horror.

“They named the strap-on?”

“It’s voice operated,” explained Wanda. “And it talks.”

“It _talks_?! gasped Sam, horrified. “What the fuck does it say?”

Wanda shook her head, with the remote, slightly vacant look of someone too young who has seen too much.

“I hope I never find out,” she said.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” grumbled Sam, as he dialled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you will have realised that I have no idea about the inner workings of the porn industry. Absolutely none. Heck, I have no idea about the outer workings either. I’ve made it all up. I don’t even watch porn. Well, I’ve watched some (d'uh), but I’m not what you would call a regular. If you’re an insider and wish to enlighten me, I’m a very curious person, and I would love to become educated on the matter. 
> 
> I’m also shamelessly bluffing my way through the technical details of the shoot. Don’t bother educating me on that, just shake your head in dismay. Or you can just go along with the idea that this is Tony’s set and he does things his way. He’s my excuse for everything. 
> 
> Oh, Stark Studios is basically Cockyboys - this is a real company that produces online porn. Thor's porn actor personna is loosely inspired by a real porn actor called Colby Keller that often works for Cockyboys. Loki is not based on anyone, but the Christmas scene and the choreography, (heck, this whole fic) was inspired by a film that exists (in gif set for ease of perusal if you follow the prompt link), in which Colby is paired with the beautiful Tayte Hanson (with that haircut he reminds me of Sebastian Stan OMG KILL ME NOW...), who starred indeed in an award-winning film featuring a fuck in the woods, which I can't recommend enough because it's fucking lovely. (Jesus fuck it sounds as if I've done research... ALL OF THIS I'VE LEARNED FROM THE OCCASIONAL PORN GIFSET I ENCOUNTER ON MY TUMBLR DASH -- Tumblr has taught me so much XD)
> 
> MORE THINGS: That bit when Tony says "I swear" and Loki replies "Don't bother, I can do that myself?" That's Mae West's. 
> 
> The mean tweet about Thor doing the porn version of Castaway exists, I paraphrased it. It was referring to Colby Keller.
> 
> Number of chapters may vary, you know what I am.
> 
> Ok, thanks Sybil_Silverphoenix, I liked your idea! I'm going to name the chapters!


	2. One battle is not the war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't over.
> 
>  
> 
> (I wanted to know what happened right after the shoot just as much as anyone...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was overwhelmed with the response to the first chapter! Thank you all for every kudos, comment, bookmark, like and reblog. 
> 
> While the tone is still light-hearted, and hopefully fun, this chapter is a bit less humorous I'm afraid, but I hope it's still, uh, enjoyable.

 

“I’m not bottoming,” declared Loki, arms crossed, snooty expression.

Huffs of frustration all around.

“But Loki, we’ve discussed this before…” began Tony.

“I said I’m not bottoming.”

“There has never been a Thor Odinson film without me topping!” exclaimed Thor.

“There’s always a first time for everything, isn’t it,” replied Loki with intention, his voice sweet, poison underneath. “And he’s not riding me either. I’m fucking him.”

“Can you believe this guy?” said Thor, hoarse with outrage.

“Non-negotiable,” said Loki.

They all turned to Darcy, imploring. She shrugged, a small, commiserating smile. Tony sighed.

“Thor?”

Thor flinched back, in shock. He could not believe his ears.

“What? Are we just going to go along with everything he asks? Why the hell am I even here then?”

No answers. Nobody was meeting his eye, except for Loki, who was also sending Thor’s way a smug half-smile. Thor was a safe bet, he worked regularly for Tony. But Loki? This wasn’t going to happen without him. He had them by the balls.

“I can’t fucking believe this. He’s just being impossible, and you all just roll over and take it?” he was dismayed. “Listen, man, if you don’t want to do this…”

“Of fucking course I don’t want to do this!” snapped Loki. “Do you think I’m here for the pleasure of your company? I’m doing this for the money, understood?”

Whoa, that was harsh. Tony thought the lady doth protest too much, but kept it to himself. Anyway, Thor did not take it well.

“Don’t do us any fucking favours, sir,” he hissed.

Loki arched his eyebrows.

“You’re the ones who’ve been chasing after me for weeks,” he noted, accurately, to the room in general. “Do you think I have nothing better to do than fuck this beefcake on camera?”

Oh, dear, the look on Thor’s eyes.

“If it’s such a huge fucking sacrifice, don’t fucking do it, then!” he roared.

“Fine! I won’t!” said Loki, pushing his chair back with a screech and stomping to one end of the room. 

“Fine!” Thor did the exact same thing.

“Gentlemen…” said Tony, panicking.

By his side, Pepper gave his knee a discreet squeeze and shushed him. She winked, mouthed “wait.”

Indeed, Thor and Loki were each in their opposite corners, sulking, huffing with barely contained anger… but clearly not storming out of the room. Not yet. Hm, interesting.

“Fine,” said Thor, after a long, tense while.

Loki half-turned to him, with a cocked eyebrow, full of suspicion.

“Fine,” repeated Thor, stance still proud. “You can fuck me, but I want a rim job.”

Loki frowned, caught off-guard. What sort of a counter-offer was that?

“What,” said Thor, insolent, “don’t want to show me what that famous silver tongue can do? This is my bargain.” (And then, under his breath.) “Whining cunt.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, his cunning brain trying to work out Thor’s angle.

“Sixty-nine,” he haggled. He always had to have the last word. “And I _know_ you can deep throat.”

They all turned to Thor, who had a look around, and then exhaled deeply, making a big show of it.

“Deal.”

Tony checked out with Pepper that she had seen what he had seen. She shrugged. A few minutes later it was all on paper, black and white, with the quick scribble Thor had for a signature (he was used to serial-autographing dildos, you see) and Loki’s neat, pointy, fastidiously written name, one on each side of the paper, lots of empty space in between, as if they could not even stand to cross inks.

The date was set, the meeting dissolved. 

“Well, that was easy,” commented Tony.

Pepper gave him an eyebrow and a half and made her way out. 

It would soon be six months since Stark Studios made internet history with the celebrated Christmas Live Event. There had been a clamour to see Thor and Loki together again, as anyone would have expected, and Tony had had every intention of orchestrating a reunion from the first minute, but he did not want to rush it. He wanted the fans to stew in it for a while, make them wait for it, make them really, really crave it, and nurse their woes with frequent visits to his website, of course.

Now summer had arrived, the weather was lovely, and he thought it was time. He had approached Thor with the notion, expecting at least some resistance, seeing that weeks after the fact, he was still sporting the scabs Loki had given him. Thor had sounded eager when he said, “sure, when?” He always wore his heart on his sleeve, bless.

Loki had played hard to get. It was just his way, he probably didn’t know any other. He had turned him down several times, but there was a distinct lack of… finality, shall we say, about the way he did it. And when Tony had waited more than two days before he insisted again after the latest rebuff, he had immediately got a call from Darcy, wanting to talk shop. Intriguing, wasn’t it?

 

 

*

 

 

(Six months earlier. Christmas Day.)

 

“Are you alright, my darling?” said Frigga, putting her hand warmly on Thor’s. “You seem distracted.”

Thor snapped out of it.

“I’m fine.”

“You did’t stay up too late last night, did you?”

_Muuum, I’m going to turn twenty-eight in a few months!_

“I was in bed at ten, actually,” said Thor instead.

“You and what other three or four men,” said Odin, chuckling, bawdy.

“Dear!” said Frigga severely.

“Nah, alone. I was knackered,” said Thor, untroubled. His dad wasn’t being mean or anything. Thor thought he actually took pride in his son’s reputation as a sex machine. “I had to work,” he added.

“On Christmas Eve?” said Frigga, shocked.

“How many were there?” said Balder.

“Just one,” said Thor, glancing at his mum.

"Whoa, and he tired you out? He must have been really something."

Frigga was rubbing her forehead heavily, eyes shut tight, trying to keep the conversation out. No matter how hard she tried, this kind of banter did not amuse her. She was no prude, and Thor had talked openly about men with her before, but his work was another story. Thor was still her babyboy, look at him, only yesterday she was still nursing him and changing his nappies and singing him to sleep… And now one of the best-selling sex toys in the world (and her friends' favourite) was a vibrating replica of his cock. It wasn't easy, alright?

“So, Balder,” said Thor, trying to steer the conversation away from himself, “have you decided what subjects you’re going to take next term?”

Frigga straightened her head, put her socialite mask of perfect composure back on, and tried to pay attention to whatever her youngest son was babbling about. She gave her oldest a fond, apologetic look, and squeezed his hand over the table. Thor smiled back. _It’s ok, mum._

 

 

“You’re definitely distracted,” noted Odin later, as the two of them waited on the couch for another helping of apple pie, with _It’s a Wonderful Life_ on TV, as they had done every year on this day after dinner, since Thor was a little boy.

Thor ruffled his hair, shrugged. What could he honestly say that he was willing to own.

“I’m ok,” he said.

“I hear this… work you did yesterday was quite a remarkable, uh, online phenomenon,” said his dad. “It was on the newspapers. Media section.”

Thor harrumphed.

“Wow, really? Well, there was some, um, anticipation,” he explained. “We had never ( _harrumph_ ) worked together before with this guy, and he’s kind of, well, he’s popular. And with it being live and all, well, it got a lot of attention.”

He’d leave out the part where it was the first time that Loki bottomed on camera. He had a flashback. His crotch clenched. He swallowed dry.

“Pardon?” He had not been listening.

“I said,” repeated his dad, patiently, “that it must be very complicated, from a technical point of view. How do you actually do it?” He suddenly went cherry-red. “The-the shooting.”

Thor gleefully dug in the technicalities for his dad. He managed to keep his terminology so aseptic, nobody would have guessed it was not a nature documentary they were talking about. It still made his dad blush purple anyway, and himself, in solidarity.

You know what, they were pretty good with all this, mum and dad, considering. It had been a big shock at first, way more awkward than the coming out talk (the worst his dad said when he told them he was gay was “but you’re captain of the football team…” with a tone of disbelief.) The porn thing had horrified them initially — understandable —, but Tony’s set-up was so… wholesome, so tasteful. And Thor was doing so well, and they could tell he was happy, that he had found his calling, so to speak, that soon enough, being the decent, liberal-minded people they had always been, they just gave him his blessing, got on with their lives, let Thor get on with his, and supported him.

It must have been hard, however, at dad’s country club, with Frigga’s socialite friends. Thor could just imagine his parents’ acquaintances at those stuffy, snobby do’s, going on about their sons and daughters, the one an engineer, the other a publicist, IT consultant, stock broker, odontologist… porn actor. _Gay_ porn actor, for extra kick. Thor was kind of sorry to put his mum and dad through that ordeal, and he had even apologised for it a few times. 

“I’m proud of you, son,” his dad had declared, chin up, jaw set, eye fierce, “and that’s what I say to anyone who has a problem with this.”

Still brought a tear to Thor’s eye, just thinking about it. 

And look who was laughing now. Let’s see how many of _your_ kids had been on Conan and Colbert and the covers of Time and Cosmo (yes, Cosmo, so what? The largest portion of Thor’s audience were women. It had Odin making naughty jokes about having missed a chance there, and getting unimpressed glares from his wife in return. Oh, and that issue of Cosmo had flown from the shelves, had been re-printed several times, and it was still a highly sought-after find for collectors. Not that he liked to brag.) 

Then there had been that BBQ when dad retired, that had been fun. Thor had expected the wives to flock around him making heart eyes, but there had been several husbands as well, a bunch of Odin’s former workmates, wanting a word with Thor, much better acquainted with Thor’s career than could be explained away by a visit to Thor's entry in the Wikipedia.

Between one thing and another, apart from a few understandably awkward instances now and then, Thor’s job was not that much of an issue in this house, and he was grateful for it.

Except for Balder. Balder was a different story. Balder drove Thor up the wall. Balder fucking _watched_ Thor’s films with his mates at college, and then left enthusiastic reviews on the website _under his own fucking name_. The kid had no fucking sense of propriety. I mean, there’s hero worship, and then there’s that. It made Thor’s skin crawl. Not to mention the laughs Tony had at his expense, the bastard.

Because his parents’ house was kinda out of the way, Thor usually spent the night there when he visited. Balder was staying with them the whole of his Christmas break. Thor was reading in bed when he heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, it’s me,” came Balder’s muffled whisper from behind the door, and he let himself in.

Thor had pulled the sheets all the way up to his chin. He did not sleep in the nude in this house, and still he was feeling strangely… exposed.

“I just saw the pre-view on the website!” reported his kid brother, _with a fucking semi_ , impossible to miss in those loose pyjama pants. “It was fucking awesome, man! Any idea when they’re going to put it up for download?” 

His little brother sat down on the bed by his legs. Thor recoiled as far back as he could go, until he hit the headboard. He really had no idea what to make of this kid. They had not been close growing up (a ten year gap is a ten year gap, and when Balder started to become his own person, Thor left for college). He was like an enthusiastic, completely oblivious happy puppy who worshipped the floor Thor trod on, wanted to be his mate more than anything, and… and Jesus fuck, he got fucking boners watching him fuck other guys on screen, what the fuck? Thor exhaled heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was so hard not to _stare_ , and he so, so did not want to.

“They need to edit it first, I don’t know,” he grumbled, eyes firmly shut.

“Do you think you could get me his number? Loki’s I mean.”

Thor’s bristles bristled.

“Didn’t you say you were straight?” he snapped.

“Man, I could totally make an exception. He can really suck cock, can't he?”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Mum, help.

“I don’t have his fucking number,” he said, curtly. _And if I did, I’d never give it to you. For your own sake, that is. He’d have you for breakfast if you even so much as tried to say hello to him, you snotty brat._ (An exceedingly pretty nineteen-year-old snotty brat. No, Balder was never getting anywhere near Loki, if Thor could help it.)

“Can’t you, like, ask?” insisted Balder.

“No,” grunted Thor. “They will think I want it for me. Fuck that.” That was surely the main reason.

“Wow, is that a bite mark?” Balder reached to touch his lip. Thor nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Balder, I want to sleep,” he pleaded.

“Oh, right, yeah." Finally, his brother got off his bed and made for the door. He turned around one last time before he left. "Anyway, great job! I can’t wait to see the whole thing!” He gave him two thumbs up, and closed the door softly behind him.

Thor sighed, relieved, and started to unfold from his rigid, as-small-as-you-can position. He settled in with his book again. 

Balder’s bed creaked behind the wall. Thor jolted. Oh, _great_. Now he would spend the rest of the night in terror, fearing every squeak and every rustle, just in case it was his little brother jerking off to one of his own goddamn porn films. Please, god, he did _not_ want to hear that.

He tried to concentrate on his book. His tongue absently poked the bruise Loki had left on his lip (inside and out, what an animal). After a few pages, while idly scratching his arm, his fingertips found the crescent-shaped indentations in the skin of his wrist, where Loki had sunk in his nails and drawn blood. When he distractedly carded his hand through his hair, his abused scalp throbbed with the reminder of Loki’s yanks and tugs. And there it was again, that stupid smile on his face, what the fuck? And he just kept on sighing, all day, for no reason. What had he come to, thinking of that wild little shit, and sighing. How he had stared at him from above, those huge green eyes, how he paraded completely naked, so cock-sure of the effect he had on Thor. I mean, Thor had eyes, ok?, he had always found him beautiful. Since the very first moment Loki had stepped into Tony’s studio, Thor had wanted to do a scene with him. His interest had never really gone away, no matter how big a jerk Loki was, because damn, just look at him. But anyway, if Loki disliked him so much, fuck him. Or _not_ fuck him, whatever. 

And what an infuriating jerk he was, god, that superiority of his when he had looked at him over his shoulder, daring Thor to fuck him…

…And here we go, the bedspread was tented. It was only the umpteenth unwelcome boner today. Sometimes he thought he should really see a doctor. Then again, mister doctor, sir, you should see those eyes, that butt, that clever, snarky mouth, those legs…

He had actually toyed with the idea of asking Loki out, after the shoot. Now he realised he must have been completely high and drunk on happy hormones, because what a batshit crazy idea was that? Loki loathed him. But Thor was impulsive, ok?, he didn’t think things through.

When he had got into the changing room, the shower was running. He took the stall two spaces away from Loki, so as not to come through as a total creep. As the hot water loosened his knots (and stung like a son of a bitch wherever Loki’s nails or teeth had broken the skin), he had that sappy, completely ridiculous thought, that he wished he could have taken Loki’s scent with him a bit longer. And then he thought longingly of his own scent on Loki’s skin, his spunk.

On the third cubicle to his right, the shower stopped. Thor felt shy, and a bit naughty, when he stole a glimpse of that long, lithe, graceful body, as Loki walked past his stall. Which was kind of surreal, what with what they had been up to for the last hour, but oh well. In his line of business, Thor had found, surreal situations were anything but rare. 

He had finished washing quickly, suddenly fearing that Loki would be out of there before Thor could… what? “ _Hey, sweetcheeks, wanna grab a coffee?_ ” — seriously, man? 

Impulsive, remember?, he told himself. Think later. It usually works for you, and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. 

He found Loki already dressed, unfortunately, and lacing up his boots. Damn, that was quick. Fair enough. Thor cupped himself with the towel to rub dry his pubes, cock and balls. He knew full well how good he looked like that, fresh out of the shower, his skin rosy with the heat, droplets artfully pearled on his muscles. He was used to finding his lovers gaping in awe when he got out of the bath, like Venus in her shell, emerging from the ocean on the crest of a wave.

But Loki wasn’t even looking. He had finished with his boots, and now he was dabbing a nut of product into his hair, in front of a mirror that, with the way it was angled, would not be reflecting Thor.

There was only so much lazy ball drying Thor could do before he started to resemble a gorilla with pubic lice. He turned his back, and pretended to be very interested in the contents of his locker as he towelled his hair. After all, he had been told that his B-side was just as impressive as his A.

Meanwhile, Loki had extracted what looked like a futuristic laser beam gun out of his bag, and had started to blow dry his hair. 

Thor dressed up as slowly as humanely possible, took forever to put on his lumberjack boots, took pains to fold his things and put them neatly inside his bag, and fumbled with his phone as much as he could, but even after all that stalling, Loki was still drying. Thor guessed he could just get there, tell him to turn the damn thing off, and make his pass like a grown-up, but…

What the fuck, Odinson, can’t you read between the lines? He hates your guts, remember? And if I’m not very much mistaken, you’re supposed to hate his.

He could not remember chickening out on a crush since he was twelve. With a heavy heart, he slung the bag on his shoulder, and walked to the door.

“Bye,” he said, forlorn.

Loki did not look at him, and he did not reply

 

And his bedcovers were still tented. Oh well, there was only one way to deal with this, so he got on with it. If he let his mind wander a bit, and re-played a few scenes in his mind… Well, they do say the brain is the biggest sexual organ. Not sure that applied to him when he was fully hard, but anyway, there was that.

 

 

*

 

 

(Still six months earlier, Christmas eve, after the shoot. Back in the changing room.)

 

Loki tensed up like a guitar string when he heard the other shower start running. He thought he would have more time. He sacrificed conditioning, rinsed as quickly as he could, wrung the water out of his hair, and walked out, hesitating between wrapping or not wrapping a towel around his hips. He went with not wrapping, because frankly, Laufeyson, shy, at this point? He passed Thor’s stall with as much dignity as he could with that fucking stiffness in his hip.

What he could _not_ possibly do was wrap his hair in a towel turban, because… just, no. Which made drying his body a bit of an uphill battle for some time, and left the neck and shoulders of his shirt soaked within ten seconds of putting it on. Fucking great.

Shoes shoes shoes shoes. God fucking dammit, Laufeyson, do you really need your footwear to reach half way up your calf and have more fucking laces than a corset? What’s wrong with a pair of fucking loafers? And shit oh shit, the shower had stopped running. He made the huge mistake of lifting his eyes for a second, and caught the fucking reflection of that lump of golden meat with nothing but a flimsy towel on his crotch, all that plentiful, supple flesh in full display. He cursed the heavens under his breath, because come the fuck _on_ , Odinson!

Loki was very, very concerned right now. There _had_ to be something wrong with him. He had _symptoms_. Ever since the choreography meeting, he had not had a day of peace. His pulse just bolted on him like a mad bull for no reason, his stomach was permanently upset and churning, he got hot flushes, and he struggled to sleep. And today had been the worst. He had almost been sick this morning before heading for the shoot, and after the _event_ , he had got to the changing room short of breath, heart beating madly. He had trusted that a long hot shower might soothe his nerves (he felt like a character in a Jane Austen novel), or his blood pressure or whatever, but no chances for long hot showers in peace in this place. Loki could not possibly calm anything with that thunderhead hovering there, getting on his tits by the mere fact of his existence.

What was he going to do? He could not go out in this state. What if he started to see black and needed to lie down? Oh no, never, not with Mr. Universe there, giving himself a crotch rub that was going to lead up to a happy ending if he kept at it. (And, jeez, here we go again, blacking out. Need to sit down. He was going to die, wasn’t he? Deep breaths, deeeep breaths.) No, if he had some sort of undiagnosed heart condition, and he was going to have a stroke today, he was _not_ going to have it here, where Thor would have to try and reanimate him. Because… because fuck you, that’s why.

Chill, just chill. The heart condition was debatable, the pneumonia he was going to get if he got out into the streets of New York on a cold December night with his hair dripping wet, that was a certainty. So he proceeded to blow dry his hair.

If he looked to one side, he could see Thor through the reflection in the mirrors by the long row of sinks. At least he was putting clothes on, thank god, but he was taking _ages_. Just hurry the fuck up already! Can’t I have my stroke in peace?

Thor took for fucking _ever_ to get out of there. Loki had probably burned his hair, he had been drying it for so long. Great, Odinson, thank you.

 

 

When he got home, there was a fucking Christmas Eve party in his apartment he could not remember organizing (that’s because he hadn’t). The band was there, a few of the more hardcore groupies that were by now almost family (not _his_ family, heavens, no), and Darcy and that Ian boy of hers.

“Here he is!” shouted someone. “He returns victorious!”

There was cheering, clapping, wolf-whistling. They had all been watching the whole damn thing on his own fucking iMac. He got back-patted and jostled and one brave soul attempted to kiss his head (wouldn’t be trying that again in a hurry). He rejected with a single well-honed glare the beer someone was offering, and just snatched Darcy’s drink instead, fluorescent green, a little paper umbrella and a slice of cucumber, and ten times more kick. He downed one third in one gulp before he plummeted on the couch like dead weight and offered it back. Darcy let him keep it, took a seat next to him.

“Tough day at work?” she teased.

“What are they doing here.”

“It’s Christmas!”

Loki gave her a dark look.

“I got you a present,” she said, conciliating. “Here.”

“Put it under the fucking tree,” groaned Loki, rubbing his eyes. He was so fucking done.

“You don’t have a tree.”

“Precisely.”

“Oh, come on!” she persisted. “Open-open-open-open-open…”

Loki rolled his eyes and accepted the box, wrapped up in cheery red paper with lots of cartoon Rudolphs printed on it. He had a bad feeling about this. Darcy had many qualities, but tact was not one of them.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled, while there was some more cheering and clapping. Amora took the box from him, with wide eyes, just before Loki bashed Darcy’s head in with it.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “It looks even bigger in real life!” 

It was a fucking dildo, moulded directly from Thor Odinson’s erect cock. Amora had extracted it from the box, and she was appraising it, in awe. Loki groaned again when he saw that the base was fucking _autographed_.

“But I thought you were fine bottoming in your private life!” teased Darcy.

“I hate you,” hissed Loki.

Darcy made a kissy pout, unfazed.

 

 

He had managed to kick them all out before eleven (never underestimate the scattering powers of his snark). From bed, he checked his stats. Stark’s website regaled him with a short clip of today's scene, to wet the viewer’s appetite for the soon-to-be-released downloadable version of the thing. It had been hastily but flawlessly put together — the first attempt at a kiss, which Loki had dodged; a couple of hair-pulling instances (nice); the moment when Thor had gestured at him to come hither, that fucking infuriating wink, then the moment when he had done the same, a wicked smirk instead of a wink; the moment when Loki had perched on the chair, offering himself; and some short, teasing glimpses of the actual sex.

Loki’s nostrils were flaring again. It was all coming back to him. That asshole! How had he dared to rim him? And what the fuck had he intended, riding him until he almost made him come, two fucking postures and twenty minutes too soon? And he called himself a professional? A fucking child is what he was! It was making his blood boil with fury. That’s what it was, right?, the reason why his pulse kept racing, his heart beating so hard, this heat in his stomach. He was fucking _furious_ , that’s what it was. It got to him every time he thought about Thor, the most annoying, arrogant, self-satisfied jerk he had ever had the displeasure of crossing paths with. He should _never_ have agreed to bottom. Not with him. And letting him come on him? What the fuck had you been thinking, Laufeyson, you greedy bitch? He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to strangle someone.

And this deadly virus he had caught had to be at the very least tropical in origin. Heart racing, stomach turning, feverish, and now he was also fucking _hard_.

“ _Unwell, rare disease, pssbly dying. Get me doctor appntmt_ ” he texted.

Darcy replied in seconds.

“ _OMG u ok? amblnce now?_ ”

“ _Nah, 2mrrow_ ”

He wasn’t dying _that_ much. And that boner wouldn’t be going anywhere without some coaxing. It was like an annoying guest like that, never fucking knowing when they're not welcome.

Darcy had left her Christmas present on his bedside table, how thoughtful. It had remained out of its box, proudly towering above it. Loki traced it base to tip with his eyes.

No, Laufeyson, he severely warned himsef, the fuck are you thinking? I forbid you. A quick jerk-off to get it out of your system, and that’s that. Keep Thor Odinson’s cock as far away from you as possible, you hear?, don’t get all fucking weird. Not about that slutty airhead who fucked dozens of men per week, and possibly forgot their names while he was still inside them. Not about that stupid gorilla with that infuriating shit-eating grin, and those fucking blue eyes that seemed to reach deeper than his dick, that irksome self-assurance, as if he owned the whole world, and that cocky smirk, as if he now also owned him…

He was all shaken up after he came, and not one bit more relaxed. Took him ages to fall asleep. He blamed the life-threatening tropical disease he had obviously contracted somehow, _not_ Thor Odinson.

 

 

*

 

(Back to the present day)

 

It was a lovely June afternoon, they had set up camp in the meadows around the country club upstate where they had shot the Christmas scene. Seemed like everything that could blossom was in bloom. The small lake at the back, touched by the late, slanting sun, shone and sparkled like polished bronze, or fish-scales, or glass shards or something — Tony left the poetry to Loki.

The team had set up a picnic blanket on a small hill, under the low branches of a tree, heavy with tiny cream flowers, silvery waterside trees all around, and on the background, beyond the lake. The light was delicate, light and shade dappled on the grass. It was delightful, romantic even. He had to remember to bring Pepper here.

Only two cameras this time, and no Blair Witch Project running around, please. Nice, harmonious, mainly static shots. Because no matter how dementedly successful and popular the Christmas Fuck still was (attesting to how little the viewers seemed to care for cinematography, damned them all to hell), this time Tony wanted decent material he could edit into something that wasn’t an absolute mess. He was first and foremost a filmmaker, goddammit, and he had standards.

“What the hell is this, Tony?” grumbled Loki the minute he arrived. “You want us to fuck or recite each other sonnets?”

“Good afternoon to you too,” said Tony, appraising the black linen trousers and deep green t-shirt, wide neck dropping off the shoulder, yum. Loki’s hair was longer and looked softer, possibly because of the drier weather, and that smattering of new freckles on his nose and cheeks made it easy to picture him as a ginger. Cute.

Thor showed up two minutes later. He was dressed in faded blue and white, very casual and classy, his hair now dry. He had been around for hours, enjoying the sun and the breeze and the cool waters of the lake. Watching him float blissfully on his back earlier, cock breaking the surface, curly pubes like seaweed (not that he was looking _._ Much), Tony had considered starting the action with Thor emerging naked from the lake, golden skin glistening and dripping, like some sort of magical aquatic creature, but even with Thor’s size, that lake was a chilly, mean, envious bugger. Bad for photography. He had no doubt that half a minute of Loki’s attentions would make the problem disappear, but fuck it. They would begin on the picnic blanket as planned, dry and warm, and with the equipment in full glory from the word go. 

This time, the boys didn’t seem so tense as they were stiff. There seemed to be an unofficial competition between them, to see who could act more oblivious of the other’s existence. Tony wagered they both believed they were winning, but one look at Phil and, yes, so Tony was not the only one who had noticed how hard they were trying, and how miserably they were failing. He had seen smoother eight-year-olds.

“Well then,” said Tony, after they had gone over the program again, with his stars’ silent, grudgy acquiescence. “Shall we?” 

Two quiet shrugs. Hah, they brought up the inner brat in each other. They sat down on the picnic blanket, side by side.

From their control post inside the building, Nat and Clint gave him the ok. The crew out in the field also gave the thumbs up. Meanwhile, Thor and Loki were now staring at each other, noses six inches away, with solid, buzzing, burning hatred. Tony felt in his pocket for the pills his doctor had prescribed after last time; he inhaled, and exhaled. He gave the sign.

And he almost gave it again — perhaps they were so deeply enmeshed in their mutual distaste that they had missed it? Neither had moved one inch. Quizzical looks between the crew members. Where were the introductions, where was the making out…? Loki stood up on his feet (Oh, boy, here we go). The cameras scrambled to get the new shot. Under Thor’s intense, narrowed stare, Loki took his shirt off, then his trousers, and he stood there naked, gorgeous under that soft, afternoon sun, like clear honey, his hip cocked the way he knew made him look like a Roman marble, and his legs look even longer.

Aaaand Thor was already hard, whoa. Now Loki started to stroke one bare foot on Thor’s bulging crotch. Thor’s frown and his breathing deepened, his lips parted. He looked up again, his eyes were glazed. Loki kept staring him down from his full height, on with that foot-job that had never been part of the program.

Loki pinched the neck of Thor’s t-shirt, gave it a tug.

“Off,” he commanded.

Thor smirked, cocky, and did as he was told, but with an air that said, “I was going to anyway, but I’m going to pretend you said please and indulge you.” Once his chest was bare, he propped himself backwards to give Loki a better view. In Loki’s long, graceful throat, his Adam’s apple bobbed visibly, there was an involuntary gasp of lust.

Satisfied with that reaction, Thor leaned over, to reach for Loki’s hardening, twitching cock with his mouth. Loki took a step back. (Tony crumpled the script in a ball and threw it over his shoulder.)

“You wanted a rim-job?” whispered Loki, enticing, like a poisonous flower. “I’ll show you a rim-job.”

Thor’s smirk got wider, his eyes narrower. He had to get on his back and lift his hips to take his jeans off, which meant that his cock jutted up like the Washington monument when it was released (Gorgeous, Coulson, great shot. Tony could work with that.) And then Thor adopted position at Loki’s feet, on his hands and knees, and managed to keep conveying a sense of pride and hauteur as he did. 

Loki kneeled down behind Thor. The camera guys coordinated to take position without getting into each other’s frames —Coulson and Pietro (the new camera guy, Wanda’s brother, she spoke wonders of him, had worked in war zones. Should be fine.)

“I’m waiting,” said Thor, ready to be unimpressed.

Oh, sweetheart, thought Tony, just you wait. You won’t know what hit you. He checked the monitor. Clint was on the side shot. There it was, that wicked, sharp, cunning silver tongue. Loki let his eyes droop so beautifully before the first touch, feather-light, blink and you miss it.

Another touch, another. Thor was squirming a bit now, quick frowns crossing his brow. He always went in all guns blazing, but Loki took his time, built it from the ground up, and by the time he got to the roof, there were no solid bones left in his partner’s body (Tony knew that well. _Sigh_.) And he was taking his time now with Thor, just the tip of his tongue barely brushing on the plum-soft flesh, a press of lips, and one clever hand reaching between the thighs, putting pressure on the crotch, but avoiding the cock. It was fucking torture, and how Tony missed it.

And Thor’s eyes were heavy now, and so was his breathing, his mouth gaping. Loki cranked it up a notch, his tongue pressing that bit harder. Thor would have prepared himself for the fucking that was to follow (unless Loki was planning on changing that part too), so Loki found him open and was able to dip the tip in. And Thor’s arms were shaking now, his head hanging between them. Loki hooked both arms around Thor’s thighs, holding him in place, and by surprise, he went for speed, quick, firm flicks, a long, intense suck. Thor blasphemed very colourfully and loudly, and collapsed on his front, burying his face in his arms. And the grin on Loki’s face then, as he kept working him, pure triumph.

"Oh my god..." mumbled Thor, his words muffled, "Christ, what are you doing to me... oh, fuck, fuck, yes... fuck, right there, right there…”

Loki kept at it with relish, holding Thor as he squirmed and wiggled, unable to stay still, as if he was fighting to get free, when his face would suggest that was the last thing he wanted. But he was being kept on the verge, his cock untouched, and it wasn’t enough, and he needed more, _now_. He got himself up on his arms again, turned to push Loki to the ground, and straddled him, face to crotch. He took Loki in his mouth, started to suck him dry. Loki whimpered so beautifully, his face unhinged. Thor’s legs were folded by his sides, his ass well exposed. Loki raised his head to give back as bad as he was getting. 

Tony did not know where to look. Both their faces, goddammit, tense with pleasure, constantly stopping what they were doing because they simply could not fucking keep it up, with the things the other was doing. And the moaning, Jesus Christ! Everyone within earshot was going to hell just for hearing it. Would it be terribly unprofessional, Tony wondered, would Pepper be awfully vexed, if he was to undo his fly and…

“Glmmmy glmbffuckingff godmblfff…” grunted Thor, cock in his mouth, with one skilled finger and one playful tongue up his hole.

“Oh, thweeth Jethuth…” whimpered Loki, tongue in Thor’s ass, with Thor swallowing him deep and humming around his cock.

Thor bobbed his head and Loki fucked into his mouth, and Tony was very, very concerned that they wouldn’t know when to stop it… 

“Oh my ffff… Off, off, off!” demanded Loki then, impatient, pushing Thor off him. 

Thor looked dizzy, sat on his heels, while Loki panted like an animal as he slipped on the condom and lubed up. Thor got on his hands and knees again, biting his lip in anticipation. He whimpered weakly when Loki entered him, Loki collapsed forward on top of his back, licked his lips. And he started to fuck him. He was holding him down, thrusting savagely, as if he wanted this to end right the fuck _now_.

But he could not keep that exhausting pace for long, and the moment he slowed down to recover his breath, Thor got up on his knees and pushed, until Loki was on his heels, and Thor's butt resting on Loki’s lap. He threw his head on Loki’s shoulder, letting him see his face, and he began to roll his hips.

If Loki had had any thoughts of trying to assert dominance again, or fighting back, they had clearly gone out the window. They began to rock together, slowly and beautifully, staring into each other's eyes, and before any of them realised, they were kissing with their eyes closed. And Loki’s hand was on Thor’s cock, and Thor’s hand on Loki’s hand, and the other one reaching back to hold Loki’s head in place, their mouths together. A gentle breeze swayed the branch in bloom over their heads, petals rained on them, the sun painted their bodies with changing lights and shadows as it trickled through the leaves, and there it was, Tony thought, if the Impressionists had painted gay porn (which they totally should have, just look at this work of art!).

Thor gently broke the kiss and disengaged. He laid on his back on the blanket, and pulled a pliant Loki over him. They kissed tenderly as Loki entered him again, and Tony clutched his chest. Ah, the power of gay sex, look at them, melting into each other. Thor hooked his ankles around the small of Loki’s back, and Loki propped himself on his arms to be able to fuck him with wider movements. They fucked, their hips rocking and rolling together, then slapping against each other, Thor's golden hands firmly clutching Loki's creamy white butt, kissing and moaning and kissing some more.

And, god, Loki practiced tantra or something, he could go for hours. But Tony did not have the time, and Thor didn’t have the patience, or the continence. He cupped Loki’s jaw sweetly, to make sure he was looking at him, and as he thrusted his hips up in time with Loki’s slams, he started to jerk off. Loki began to snake his spine, so flexible, and Thor whined and whimpered with each thrust, his sweet spot inside expertly pleasured.

“God, Loki…” he moaned, trying to keep his eyes open to watch him, sensation overwhelming him. “Loki…”

Loki started fucking like a dog, his clenching buttocks something that UNESCO should be taking an interest in. Thor whimpered so sweetly, and started to come with a blissful smile of perfect, heavenly satisfaction.

Loki kept fucking up to the very end, then frantically pulled out, condom off, and finished himself between gasps and whimpers, painting Thor’s chest with his come.

They were looking at each other without moving, now, but for their heaving chests. Then Thor touched the spunk on his body, mixing his and Loki’s together, and brought his fingertips to his lips, to taste it. Loki gasped, eyes wide in wonder. Thor threw his arms around him and pulled him close, skin to skin, his legs still wrapped around Loki’s waist, breathing heavily against each other.

It was only when he heard Natasha’s polite throat clearing in his ear piece that Tony remembered to call cut.

 

Loki seemed to wake up from a dream, blinking, an expression that was nothing short of alarm quickly taking over his face. He wiggled out and away from Thor. He was still half-hard as he quickly gathered his clothes, snatched the robe from his assistant’s hands, and made a run for it.

 

 When Thor got to the changing room, Loki was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking I should make a note that, whereas this is based in the US (which I've been to, and I'm acquainted with by proxy through friends and media, but haven't lived there), it's written in whatever variation of English I speak, and except for not using "bloody" or "bleeding" as swear words, there isn't a great effort at keeping it American. I learned English with mostly American movies and songs, and then I lived in the UK for a long time, so my English is a mish-mash of dialects.
> 
> I'm saying all this because I'm concerned that it may be annoying. Does it detract from the reading? If it does, perhaps an American native would proof-read it for me, pretty please?
> 
> Now, although as I've already said, I'm not big on the technical details, even I know that live direct sound in an open space is probably nearly impossible to get right. Add to that the breeze I mention, and it would probably be a disaster, and not very romantic or hot at all. Just go with it.


	3. Guerrilla warfare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise attack of the USS Angst, right on the flotation line. If you were reading this for the lighthearted humour, abandon ship immediately. I'm sorry, when I set out to write this I didn't mean to take it seriously at all. But that's what happens when you give the bloody characters feelings, goddammit.

 

“What are you reading?”

Thor jumped one foot in the air. He had been so engrossed in his book, he hadn’t even heard her coming.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” laughed Frigga, warm hands on his shoulders. “ _The Long Way Down_ , by Loki Laufeyson. I don’t think I know it.”

Thor was blushing, his heart thumping as if she had caught him red handed doing some mischief.

“A fr-… a guy I know wrote it.”

She was studying him with a penetrant look, perspicacious.

“Is it good?” 

“Yeah!” said Thor, all enthusiasm. “It’s awesome, so clever. And he was only twenty-one or something when he published it. And he also writes poetry. And he sings with a band.” Oh dear, his face and ears were in flames. Fucking _chill_ , Thor…

His mother returned a fittingly impressed look, always that undercurrent of humour beneath. She could see right through him.

“He’s really talented,” said Thor, shy.

“And is he handsome too?” 

The dreamy grin on his face now, irrepressible. He couldn’t look at her, he’d fucking burst with embarrassment. He was a grown man, for Christ's sake, fawning like a schoolgirl.

“Try absolutely beautiful, more like,” he mumbled. “Show-stopper.”

His mother kept right on smiling, that playful eyebrow.

“Well, well. Maybe we’ll meet him then? One day?”

“I’d-I’d like that.” He cleared his throat. “But I don’t know.”

“Oh?” interrogated his mum.

“I mean, it’s not like we’re dating or something. He’s just… a guy I know.”

She nodded, her expression one that said she could understand Thor’s plight.

“Does he know you… feel this way about him?”

Thor shrugged, rubbed the back of his neck, felt heat creeping up his cheeks.

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

The look in her eyes, loving, amused, sympathetic. Her little darling in his little mess.

“You can always pick up the phone, can’t you? There’s nothing wrong with asking someone out for a cup of coffee…”

He huffed, impatient with himself. It’s not like he had not been turning the idea in his head for weeks now. It was becoming tiresome, and a bit depressing, this lack of resolution on his part.

“It’s complicated,” he repeated, down-hearted.

She kissed his head warmly, mumbling “my baby”.

“Can I borrow it after you finish it?” she asked.

He smiled. “Sure.” 

It wasn’t unusual for Thor to become infatuated with his scene partners and have affairs. He knew other guys who went on about how they preferred to keep the job and their love lives separate, but Thor thought, fuck that. If he had found a handsome guy whose company he enjoyed, that he could have some laughs and great sex with, did it matter where he had met him? If there was more to it than just one scene, why not take it home and squeeze all the juice out of it while it still ran? And when it dried out, he moved on.

He would sometimes bump into them again at work, but he was a sweet enough guy that he very rarely met with so much resentment that it could not be resolved with a joke and a laugh. After all, it was not like he ever lied or led them on. He made it clear from the beginning that he was only looking for some fun. What could he say? He was in his prime, and with lots of friends and family who loved him, he had plenty of companionship, trust and affection in his life as it was. He just wasn’t looking to settle. He lived to the full. And if he left a few broken hearts in his path… well, that’s life. He _did_ wonder sometimes whether that made him an asshole, or any less of a _mensch_. Maybe it did. Oh well. He knew himself, alright? This couple thing was not made for him, not right now. It was better this way, for everyone.

So he had a crush on Loki. It wasn’t the first time. But being realistic, it wasn’t going to happen, was it? Two people can have sexual chemistry together (understatement of the fucking century) and be wrong for each other in every other way that counts. This love/hate thing may look like fun in the movies, but at his wise old age, he should already be able to tell the difference between fiction and real life. He was also mostly past the teenage craving for extreme emotions. He had a good life, and he did not need the drama, the headaches, the pain that would surely come from getting himself into anything with someone like Loki. So he decided to pass.

Except he wasn’t passing at all. Was it just the forbidden fruit syndrome, wanting what you can’t have, what you should not want? Was he just not used to walking out on something he craved? Or did the problem run deeper than that? Because, goddammit, it felt like the wild little shit was on his mind all the bloody time.

In that neither-here-nor-there twilight zone of indecision he found himself in after their second scene together, he was bound to do some stupid things. Going to see Loki play with his band was just the first of many. He sat there at the back, hoping his presence would go unnoticed, and based on Tony’s assessment of the band’s talent, he braced himself for a cringe-worthy performance, and some serious second-hand embarrassment.

As it turns out, Tony was full of shit. The band wasn’t all that bad! Although to be fair, they could have been banging sticks and stones together and Thor would not have cared. Because holy mother of fuck, _Loki_ … Thor had seen Loki the proud, snobby, stuck-up diva. He had seen Loki the dismissive, snarky dick. He had even seen him in the throes of pleasure, and still, he had never seen anything sexier in his life than Loki simply having _fun_. He was singing, dancing, joking, flirting, teasing, and laughing. _Loki laughing_ , sweet Jesus. Laughing because he was enjoying himself, because he was having a good time. Be still, Thor's heart…

Ok, so now he was crushing on a whole new level. Smitten, painfully smitten, fucking pining. Time to cross some more items off the Stupid Ideas list. He ordered Loki’s books - one novel, two slim volumes of poetry. Again, he was thinking of Tony’s scathing comments, and he was fully expecting to be shaking his head in dismay at page after page of self-centred, self-pitying drivel, conceited, pompous and abstruse. He really thought he would be faced with how shallow and pretentious Loki actually was, and be reminded again of all the ways in which they were totally incompatible and unsuited for each other.

Well, you know what’s coming next, right? Yes, Tony was wrong, again. Ok, Loki’s poetry was demanding, true, and if you weren’t paying attention, you would not understand a word. But that did not mean there was nothing to understand. If you did pay attention, those poems rewarded you with layer after layer of meaning. They were painstakingly woven little worlds of words, a labour of love and craftsmanship, and perhaps Thor was looking through rose-tinted glasses, but he thought he had found, hiding and quivering under that thick armour of metaphor, a lonely heart waiting for someone who cared enough, and was persistent and patient enough, someone with a strong, true motivation, to pry all those layers apart, and find him there, reaching out.

Aaaaaand Thor was in trouble, wasn’t he? Well and truly. Beyond all recognition.

More Stupid Things: watching their scenes together, more times than he cared to confess. Then he watched Loki's scenes with other partners - because by now who fucking cared - until he knew by heart all his freckles, concavities, reliefs, marks, bulges, angles, and ridges, and more than that, his twitches, blinks, flinches, gasps, squirms, all his expressions, all his sounds. They refreshed and reformed his own memories, fed his fantasies, and left him permanently, agonizingly starved. It was torture of the most exquisite kind.

He was man enough to admit it, this was no passing crush, and no mere infatuation: He was head over heels in love with Loki, with the obsessive exaltation of a teenage boy. The Mighty Thor had fallen, and it was not a simple fun time he was after. That wouldn’t even begin to satisfy him. He wanted it all. He wanted to take Loki home, look after him, make him laugh, soothe him when he was having a bad day, bask in his glow when he was having a good one. He wanted him there with him, nestled under his arm on the couch in the evenings. He wanted to take him places, places he already knew and loved, places he had never been to before, and discover them together. He wanted to see him hunched over the desk, working at his poetry, kiss the back of his neck as he walked past. He wanted to fuck on every existing surface of the flat, and then cuddle up in bed, pillow talk until their eyes couldn’t stay open, bring him breakfast in bed in the morning. 

And the hours he had spent just wondering what Loki liked to have for breakfast, agonising over whether he had a sweet tooth, or whether he was more an eggs and bacon kind of guy. Oh, he obsessed over every shred of information he could gleam, to flesh out his daydreams, and make them feel a bit more real. Yes, after the brief, vague bios accompanying his books had been dissected for every last detail, he had googled him as well (beyond his band and his writing and his porn acting, there was so little. Oh, Loki was mysterious…). He just couldn’t keep him away from his thoughts. God knows how it had happened, but there went his pants, his heart and his mind, Loki had it all. Oh, please, have it all, just take it already, and keep it…

He had thought he was doing a decent job at acting normal at work. He was confident that nobody would be able to accuse him of slacking off or lowering his exacting standards. But when the cameras weren’t shooting, he may have been a bit absent, daydreaming perhaps, and not his usual sunshiny, carefree self at all.

Nobody made any comments, but one day, to his absolute horror, Thor discovered that someone had been through his things and had found one of Loki’s poetry books (copiously underlined and annotated, with exclamation marks here and there) that he carried in his bag. They had left it prominently displayed in his locker. As he hurried to stuff it back inside the bag, a strip of paper flew to the tiles. Just a word, “Loki” and a phone number, in Tony’s handwriting. Well, fuck. Now Thor wasn’t sure if he was angry, grateful, or simply shocked at Tony’s fucking nerve.

That was two weeks ago. He had not yet worked up the courage.

But he would, he definitely would, just you wait. He was waiting for the stars to align. Any day now. Perhaps not today either, but soon…

 

 

*

 

 

“I want to do a scene.” Loki Laufeyson had burst into the editing room, unannounced and uninvited.

Tony turned his head around, took in the sight — an expression of determination, and god almighty, he looked so hot when he did his eyes. Loki always decked out to come and see him, it was rather flattering. He returned to his monitor, keeping Loki right in the corner of his eye.

“Sure,” he said, unfazed. He was no stranger to Loki’s dramatic entrances. “You’re not in any trouble, are you?”

“Trouble?” said Loki, leaning his ass on the edge of the table, just by Tony’s arm.

“I did not think we would hear from you for a while. Have you blown all the money already?”

Loki glowered.

“Ok, ok, none of my business,” conceded Tony. He swivelled on his chair to face him. “It will be a pleasure and a privilege, as always. Did you have anyone particular in mind?”

Loki bit his cheeks in, pretending to be thinking about it, and feigning nonchalance — very poorly by the way. Was he even really trying? But his mouth got all pouty like that, it was so cute.

“What about that hung German guy with the shark smile?”

Tony chuckled at the description.

“Erik Lensherr? Sure. I’ve heard him say before that he, ummm… admires you.”

“And what’s the name of that ripped, sweet-faced American pie?”

Tony chuckled again.

“Steve Rogers?”

“That’s the one.” A hard edge in Loki’s voice. “I want them both.”

Tony arched his eyebrows.

“Interesting,” he said. To put it mildly. He hoped the dollar sign was not too blatantly twinkling in his eyes. “I’ll ask them.”

“Good. Do it.” Loki got up and made for the door. He stopped at the threshold, and as he sorted out his silk scarf, he let it drop, like it was nothing, “Oh, and I’m fine with bottoming.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up again.

“Alright,” he said, cautiously. Whatever was going on there, it felt safer just to go along with it. He cleared his throat. “Uuuuh, either of them? Any preferences?”

“Both.”

Tony reclined back on his chair, with a creak. Who are you, and where did you get an exact replica of Loki Laufeyson’s body to possess. (And can you get me one too, I have money.)

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“See if they’re free next week,” said Loki, ignoring that. “Any day. Monday’s fine.”

Tony scratched his primly manicured beard. Did Darcy know about this?

Oh well.

“You’re the boss,” he said.

 

 

*

 

 

The first thing that hit Thor when he turned on his laptop was an email notification from Balder, with the subject “OMG YOU NEED TO SEE THIS BRB DYING!!!!” It contained a link to starkstudios.com, surrounded by a profusion of emojis expressing drooling, heart eyes, eyes bulging out of orbits, little devils, and fainting.

Thor swallowed. Oh dear oh dear oh dear, to click or not to click. What had his brother in raptures this time. Would it keep Thor awake for two weeks again? It would not be one of his, right? 

Sigh. He clicked. It lead to a scene, of course. It started automatically, with Thor’s free direct access. And his heart sunk. It was Loki, in a well-lit room Thor recognized, upstairs in the Studios, sitting on a long ottoman by a nice big window, between Erik and Steve (Thor had worked with both). They introduced themselves, lots of smiles and eye contact, flirty, sunshiny and joyful, everyone delighted to be there. Loki was leaning against Steve’s chest, liquid, feline, and had one leg draped over Erik’s lap.

“I’ve been wanting to meet Loki since I first saw him,” Erik was saying, his eyes fixed on the aforementioned, who responded with a deceitfully demure smile. “I think it’s pretty obvious how much I’m looking forwards to this,” shark smile.

Loki dipped his eyes to Erik’s already bulging crotch, and chuckled.

“This is something I’ve always wanted,” purred Loki. “I’m going to have the time of my life. And doesn’t Steve have the most amazing body, I can’t wait…” 

And he didn’t. He offered his mouth for Steve to kiss, fixed him in place with an arm around his neck. A soft, pleased hum. The stab of jealousy punched the air out of Thor’s lungs. That was nothing like _their_ scenes, was it?

Odinson, you know what comes next. They’re going to fuck, and it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch. Why do this to yourself, man, turn it off, do it _now_.

Loki and Steve’s mouths on each other, stroke of tongues, slow and sensual, while Erik ran one eager hand up Loki’s leg, kneading the flesh on the inner side of his thighs, and anchoring on his crotch. Loki turned his attention to Erik then, biting his lip, eyes glazed. He leaned over to kiss him. Erik wasn’t sweet, he was a fucking carnivore. He took control of the kiss, one strong hand around the back of his head, dragging Loki over to straddle his lap.

“Your ass is incredible,” whispered Erik in Loki’s ear, with two healthy handfuls, crushing their groins together. Loki threw his head back and sighed with abandon, rolling his hips. The camera delayed on his thoroughly kissed mouth, his soft sighs when Erik began to work his lips on the sensitive crook of his neck.

Thor adjusted himself, before the ridge of the crotch seam of his jeans cut all circulation to his cock, while Loki continued to press his hips against Erik’s groin, that bite on his lip a bit sharper, that frown on his brow a bit deeper, a soft moan when Erik sucked at his flesh, clearly intent on bruising.

Steve, meanwhile, took his shirt off. (The bastard was gorgeous, probably extra-terrestrial. Like, from Krypton. Thor had enjoyed their scene together so much, and he thought there was a spark there with Steve too. What a huge disappointment when he had heard he was already taken. By a boy _and_ a girl, no less, lucky buggers. Well, look at him. There was obviously enough to share.)

Now Loki was losing his shirt, with Erik’s eager help. Steve stood up, and Loki turned to face him, still on Erik’s lap, and as he rubbed and pushed his ass against Erik’s crotch, he took all he wanted from Steve’s golden flesh. Steve was so fucking sweet though, his hands on Loki’s hair tenderly stroking, gently leading, and Loki willing to be lead to wherever Steve needed him. His nipples for some time, the camera taking in that devilishly playful tongue, circling and flicking and sucking (and always rolling his hips, Erik’s hands making sure he wasn’t going anywhere, pushing up to meet him), then Loki unbuttoned Steve’s jeans, pushed them down to just below his admittedly awe-inspiring ass, and met Steve’s hard cock with his mouth. Steve’s nut-cracking buttocks clenched as he gently thrusted in. When the camera approached for a detail shot, Loki looked right into it, mouth full of cock, those green eyes pale with the clarity in the room, and a flush of hot blood made Thor squirm in his chair, as the knot in his throat tightened. 

Make up your goddamn mind, Odinson. Either turn this off and go for a cold shower, or whop it out and be done with it. But fucking _do_ something already, because these jeans are fucking tight, and you make a living out of this thing you’re currently depriving of oxygen. Have you heard of necrosis?

Fuck your pride. Whop it out it is. A sigh of relief, then some lube, and he started stroking.

Erik and Steve were now both on their feet in front of Loki, who was sitting down on the ottoman, using his hands and his mouth to pleasure them both, his soft hums and grunts boring right into Thor’s crotch. He began to twist the glans on the upstroke, panting. 

Then, a sudden change of pace. Erik grabbed Loki’s wrists roughly, overpowering him. He sat on the ottoman and Loki fell on top of him, half stumbling. Oh, Loki’s expression, he had fucking _loved_ that. He was immobilized against Erik’s chest, facing up, and now Steve undid Loki’s pants and dragged them down his legs with a few forceful tugs. Thor’s heart skipped a beat as the whole expanse of creamy white skin was revealed, Loki’s cock jutting up, flushed dark. 

Steve kneeled down to suck him, as Loki thrashed and squirmed in Erik’s iron hold, arching, moaning. Steve had to tuck Loki’s legs under his arms, he was moving so much. Oh, the wild minx. He didn’t really want to let go, did he? Feisty thing. Thor’s groin throbbed, his cock twitched watching him fight like that, imagining having him tied down to his bed.

Then his hand froze. Steve was putting on a condom. What the…? No. Fuck, no, not that. Steve got between Loki’s parted thighs, pulled him on top of his lap, Loki’s arms still in Erik’s clutches.

“Ah, fuck, yes, give it to me…” moaned Loki between gritted teeth, as he twisted and fought, just to make Erik’s grip grow tighter, and to force Steve to shove it in with one quick, vigorous thrust.

Loki’s hiss when Steve breeched him, Steve’s own gasp. _No_. Thor suddenly didn’t want to jerk off anymore. The burn in his throat was choking him.

Steve’s biceps were bulging, lifting Loki up and slamming him down hard against his cock. At least now Loki was not fighting, but cooperating, bouncing on Steve’s lap.

“Oh my god... Harder, harder…”

They were both rolling and circling their hips now, close eye contact (Steve fucked a lot with his eyes, it was seriously hot), their expressions unhinged, feverish, Loki’s arms behind his back, in Erik’s hands. 

Change positions. Steve got Loki off him and spun him around like a doll (Krypton, definitely Krypton). Loki was now on his knees in front of Erik. Steve grabbed Loki’s wrists, held them on the small of his back, bent him over, and fucked in. Erik put his claw on Loki’s head, and shoved his cock into Loki's mouth. The camera dipped in to show Loki’s expression, drowsy with pleasure, ravaged, a wreck. 

Right now, Thor hated Tony Stark with all of his being. He wiped the fucking tear that had been swelling in his eye, and he sobbed like an idiot when Steve pulled out and came on Loki’s ass. That was _his_ spot.

But they were not done ripping his heart out, oh no. When Loki Laufeyson set out to destroy someone, he pulled all the stops. On his stomach on the ottoman, knees still on the floor, arms stretched in front of him, Steve holding his wrists. Erik took position behind Loki, and prepared. He was not gentle. He fucked him hard and fast, flesh slapping. Loki was moaning like a cat in heat, his pale buttocks now rosy.

“God, you’re so big, you’re so… Oh my god, yes, yes, yes… God, don’t stop it. Don’t stop it…”

Every single fucking noise rung loud and clear in the quietness of Thor’s room, the wet slicks, the slaps, Erik’s grunts, Loki’s moans, pleading, obscene, sobbing. Loki began to pull and twist and wiggle his arms, making Steve work to keep him in place, making Erik hold him down and fuck even harder. Short, desperate, high-pitched sounds in time with Erik’s thrusts. And he still retained every bit of class, can you believe that? Begging and moaning, being pounded into the ground, and his dignity still intact, his control of the situation, absolute. 

And Erik was the privileged one when he too came on his rump. Thor was going to fucking castrate him next time he saw him, for the shit-eating expression he sported as Loki took it. Have some fucking respect, you son of a… Thor’s erection was still there, stubborn, throbbing, but what Thor really wanted to do with his fist right now was put it through the fucking computer screen.

Loki was sitting on Steve's lap now, restrained by two powerful arms against that broad, golden chest, with Erik jerking him off, teasing him cruelly, as Loki begged.

“Please, please… Oh fuck, yes, yes, please don’t stop it, yes, yes..." He was fighting and pushing and twisting in Steve’s arms, while Erik took him to the brink, and let him dangle there twice. Steve, meanwhile, soothed him and kissed him.

“Please, fuck, let me come, let me come… Please, don’t stop now, oh, god, oh god, oh fuck…”

Loki shuddered violently when he came, sobbing, whimpering. Steve held him in his arms through the aftershocks, kissing his neck and cheek so gently, until Loki’s breathing slowed down, and he opened his eyes, drowsy with bliss.

Thor’s own eyes were hard and cold now, in stark contrast with the satisfied, relaxed, well-fucked expressions on screen. He clenched his jaw as Erik and Steve made their noises as to how fucking hot that was, how amazing Loki had been, how perfect, how beautiful to do this with him, how sexy. Loki said something to the effect that it had been even better than he had imagined.

Whatever. Thor couldn’t really think clearly through the fog of hurt and anger. The boys said goodbye, and that was that, cut to previews of oncoming releases and other available titles.

Thor’s chest was heaving, tears swelling in his eyes. He wiped them off furiously. It was a job, sure, and he himself had fucked two dozen men since their scene together, but this didn’t feel like work, ok? It felt very fucking personal. Loki had done this _to him_ , to spite him, to put him in his place, to make it clear how very much _not_ _special_ their scene had been. Because, come on, seriously? Another scene, so soon? When Loki usually made two or three a year, at best? And with what he had been paid? He could not possibly be needing this. And then the fucking double bottoming? Letting them come over him? What the fuck! Oh, no, this was not just work, this had been Mr. Laufeyson’s very special _fuck you_ to yours truly. Because he was probably still playing at their war games, wasn’t he? And this was payback for softening up with him their last time together. Well, one thousand points to you, Laufeyson, you fucking win this round by a fucking mile. 

He is a jerk, man, get it inside that thick skull of yours already. He is a jerk with the emotional maturity of a preschooler. And you’re kidding yourself if you think that this crush of yours is nothing but misplaced lust. You do not fucking love him, you love the fucking image you’ve created in your stupid head because you want to fuck him again. And Loki is not the lonely little boy in his tower waiting to be rescued. This is Loki, the childish, immature, cruel asshole who will rip your heart to shreds and hand it back to you on a platter if you offer it to him.

So fuck him. Fuck him very much, by someone else who has the masochistic streak to put up with his shit. You don’t need this in your life, Odinson, you don’t need him. Get over him. Forget him. _Fuck. Him._

 

 

 

“You don’t need him!” concurred Fandral, his words slurred (they had had a few). “Fuck him!”

Thor had let his friends drag him out drinking to cheer him up. He had been crying on Fandral’s shoulder at some point, letting it all out, then they had doused it all with more drinks, and whereas Thor wasn’t feeling cheery at all, at least he was not moping so much anymore.

“What you need, my friend, is a change of scenery,” said Fandral, at around 4 a.m.

“Huh?”

“Road trip. You and me. And Volstagg and Hogun, of course. A couple of months driving through the country, meeting exciting strangers, new sights, new experiences. Untold adventures with beautiful amateurs, porn actors for a day with the best of them all. No choreography, no pre-arranged anything, just fucking. We’ll get every single award there is.”

“I don’t fucking care about awards,” grumbled Thor.

“But you do care about getting your head out of your own ass, don’t you?”

Now, that’s a thought.

Even through the thick trickle that was his brain right now, Thor remembered Fandral mentioning his _art_ _project_ before. Thor had not seen the charm in it a few weeks back, but apparently it was growing on him.

A sigh. So many tonight.

If that didn’t take his mind off Loki, he didn’t know what would.

“Fuck it,” he said, raising his glass. “Yeah, ok, let’s do this.”

“Hooray!” said Fandral, clinking his beer with Thor’s. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

Thor sighed, one more. Who’s counting.

 

 

*

 

 

 _“So you’ll have the revised draft ready by 10 a.m. tomorrow?_ ” Darcy’s voice on the phone.

“What? Yes.” Loki’s eyes were on the screen. Refresh, refresh, refresh.

“ _With the new corrections?_ ”

“Uh, maybe.”

A pause.

“ _Will you make sweet love to me under the stars and give me a balloon-themed wedding?_ ”

“Uh, maybe.”

“ _…You’re not listening, are you?_ ”

“What?”

At the other end of the line, Darcy sighed.

“ _Why do I even bother calling you at this time of the day.”_

“What time of the day,” said Loki, playing dumb.

“ _The daily update._ ”

Now it was Loki who sighed. And did not reply, which to Darcy was reply enough.

“ _You have a serious problem, do you know that?_ ” she said.

Loki kept up his stubborn, very revealing silence. His jaw may be clenching.

“ _Why don’t you just… call him, text him, whatever? Anything?_ ”

Yeah, right, as if. Silence.

“ _Suit yourself. But you do have a problem, kiddo, and it’s getting worse, not better. What are you going to do about it?_ ”

“Jerk off, mainly, if only you would quit your yapping and leave me to it,” he snapped.

He could practically hear her shake her head in despair.

“ _Just get me the goddamn draft._ ”

“Yes ma’am.”

“ _I’m serious, Loki, the deadlines…_ ”

“I said I will and I will,” he said.

“ _Ok then, I’ll leave you to your sad wanking. But if you break the toy I got you, there’s no more coming until January. Be warned._ ”

 

Loki may have a problem, and perhaps he would not be the first to admit that, but neither would he be the last. He was hooked on this fucking blog, only checked it seven hundred times a day, had already burned in his mind all the available material (about four weeks worth now), and pretty much lived for the daily update, around 10 every night.

There would be photos of the day's shenanigans, people they had met, places they had seen (small towns, long roads, curious sights, lots and lots of nothing). There would be short journal entries from Thor, Fandral and Volstagg, the camera guy (never from Hogun, the sound guy). Often there would be three or four short vids in which they talked or joked, and then, if the day had gone that way (it usually did), some porn. Thor, and sometimes Fandral too, at the same time, were fucking fetching amateurs all across America. They were clumsy, uncoreographed fucks, sometimes indoors (motel rooms), sometimes in the great wilderness. They were raw and authentic, lighthearted, tender, and utterly gripping. God fucking dammit, Thor was a fucking artist, he was supreme. The intimacy of it, the humanity, the truthfulness. It was the hottest thing Loki had ever seen, and he dared anyone to find him anything hotter.

While he waited, Loki clicked again on yesterday’s entry. Three short clips. Thor sleeping in the truck, then waking up (Loki’s heart stopped every time when those blue eyes met the objective and he smiled). Then a party on a beach, lots of people, the image was sort of crap, but there was Fandral trying to make Thor dance by the bonfire (why didn't he feel like dancing? Inquiring minds wanted to know - Some may have ideas of their own. Not good, that, inquiring minds needed to stop). The last one was in the motel room, lit with just the moonlight, Fandral and Thor were fucking in the dark; it was the sounds more than anything, a silvery edge of moonlight tracing the contour of Thor's gobsmacking silhouette. Then their voices soft, mumbling together, some muffled laughing. It felt like intruding into something private, even if the two people involved were perfectly happy to release it to the world wide web. It didn't feel like they were doing it for the camera, more like they just didn't care. For a simple quickie in the dark, it was a pretty big rush.

They often got frisky with each other, Fandral and Thor; sometimes, they had even done questionable (illegal?) things in the back seat of the moving van. They were obviously very close, they touched each other like practiced dancing partners. Their fucks were usually rough and quick, no fussing about, none of the theatricals of professional porn; but before and after, the jokes, the tenderness, the complicity, that closeness, that trust, Loki didn’t know how that felt like. It didn’t even make him want to jerk off, it made him want to cry. 

Refresh, refresh, refresh.

He had tried to fool himself at first into believing it was nothing but lust. He had gone clubbing like he hadn’t since he was twenty-one. When garden variety hook-ups did nothing for him, except reminding him why he had stopped going clubbing, he had had to go back to the drawing board. Was it the camera he was missing? The professional set-up? He had asked Tony for the pick of the crop, and told him exactly what he wanted, and got it, oh, he had got it, alright. If that had not been the best sex he had ever had, it was up there in the top three. But once he got home, it was not Erik’s cock he was dreaming of, or Steve’s sweetness, his strength, his incredible body. No, it was still Thor.

_“God, Loki… Loki…”_

He was fucking haunted. He had refused to watch their scenes for as long as he could manage, what was left of his instinct of self-preservation reminding him just what a bad idea that would be, but relented inevitably. The memories had come flooding in. His poor fucking heart had drowned in them.

Thor. How fucking sweet he had been that second time, how he had looked at him, his voice calling out Loki’s name as he came, that fucking come play. Oh, he was good, he was so fucking good, a world-class master. He stared right into your soul, and he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. He made it seem as if nobody had ever made him feel that way before. He kissed you like you were the sweet fucking mystery of life, and he had at last found thee. That asshole, that cruel, heartless bastard.

Refresh, refresh, refresh.

Oh, sure, Thor had liked him well enough, no doubt about that. Loki wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t stupid. They had been good fucks, both scenes. Hell, not good, out of this fucking world more like. But Loki had heard the stories. Thor did this all the time, didn’t he? He took his scene partners home for a couple of weeks to play, and Thor must be a perfect darling every single one of those days, Loki was sure of that. But then somebody else would come along, fresh blood, and there you go, “we’ve had fun, but…”

Ah, Odinson, you son of a bitch. He collected broken hearts like a magpie collects shiny things, didn’t he. He could have anyone, _everyone_ , and he seemed intent on doing just that. 

Well, not Loki’s heart, he could not have that. It may not be much, quality wise, and it may be kinda worse for wear, but it was the only one Loki had, and he wasn’t going to fucking throw it away for that bastard to chew it up and spit it out again. 

Refresh, refresh, refresh.

Oh, there it fucking was, finally! Loki quickly scrolled down the page, skipping the journal entries, only just about scanning the photos (he’d be going over and over it all again later; right now, he was eager to get to the good stuff). Three vids today. First one, Fandral and Thor talking to an old man in his porch. He used to be a model for smutty photos in the seventies. They talk about how the world has changed, the industry. Loki was barely listening - Thor looked gorgeous, so fucking blonde and golden and tan. Next vid, Thor and Fandral goofying around with a basket of fruit, singing to Carmen Miranda. Third vid. Thor and a gorgeous lumberjack type, naked in the middle of nowhere. Now we’re fucking talking.

Loki stretched out on the bed, laptop by his side. Grabbed the lube, slicked up. Thor was sucking the guy against a huge boulder, the desert in the background, the image blanched out with heat and light. The guy was hung. They were so much alike, the same kind of guy. The lumberjack was not as handsome as Thor (fucking hell, who was), but it could have been his brother. 

That deep, husky voice of Thor's, goddammit, it went straight to Loki's pleasure centres. It was a Pavlovian response by now. One word, and Loki was hard, throbbing, and leaking. He tried to slow down and make it last. 

They were fucking now, the lumberjack doing Thor first. Thor’s face, concentration frown, hands flat on the rock, bracing himself. The lumberjack was strong, and he was going for it. Loki remembered ploughing that rock-hard ass, _god_. Then they flipped, and Thor was mounting the lumberjack with gusto, one foot on the rock. The guy was whimpering as if he was in pain, whimpered when Thor grabbed his hair to kiss him. Loki lubed up the dildo, stuck it in with a sigh, turned it on. He was keeping a close eye on the action, the two big, bear-guys glued together from neck to foot, Thor pistoning in and out of him in short, fast thrusts. Loki was so near, so near, he played with the dildo inside him, then in and out fast, trying to match Thor’s pace. Climax was looming, Loki struggled to keep his eyes open. The lumberjack was jerking off now. Some breathy moans, and he was coming all over the rocks. Thor pulled out for the cum shot, and Loki took himself home, jacking frantically with one hand, manoeuvring the dildo in and out with the other.

“Thor… Thor…”

He started seeing sparks, and he was off, coming hard, the way one does when one has been masturbating daily, has been suitably turned on, has been able to put in the time and the effort, counts with the right machinery, and has had a bit of luck. He was left panting fast and shallow, body relaxed, heavy, sated.

He contemplated the ceiling for some time, as his breathing slowed down. He felt numb. 

After a while, he pulled out the dildo, and rolled on to his side. He wanted to catch up on the last of the vid - he had missed everything after Thor came. There it was. Thor was kissing the lumberjack, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, making the guy blush and smile in shy delight. Loki let out an angry, jealous huff. Yeah, enjoy it. Enjoy it for all of the two fucking more minutes of his time you’re going to get, he thought bitterly, as he cleaned up.

“That was a good one, guys,” Fandral’s voice off-screen, that flamboyant tone he used.

Thor winked to the objective.

Loki shut the lid and pushed the goddamn laptop away. He rubbed his face hard, exhaling deeply. It would be nice if he could watch so much as one of these without wanting to fucking cry at the end, for a change. Was that too much to ask.

 _It’s getting worse, not better, what are you going to do about it._ Jerking off and crying, was that the plan? Until when? Until what? How much longer would that fucking porn road trip last? Would Loki get his peace back when it finished? Would he be getting his life back then? Or would he wither away going over the whole blog again and again, until his cock gave up on him, or his sanity? Not that he liked being overdramatic or anything. Jesus fuck, Laufeyson, you're pathetic.

He got the laptop out of slumber and got working on the goddamn corrections Darcy had asked. Not that this novel would get published either, but he would work until sunrise if he had to. Beat the hell out of just lying there, unable to sleep, replaying the goddamn vid to boredom, reading and re-reading Thor’s five-line journal entry of the day, as if it contained the code that spelled his true heart.

 

 ________________________

 

 

Early December, Tony’s office.

“You know why I’ve asked you to come, don’t you?” said Tony, cautiously.

“You don’t want your balls made into a keychain for Pepper,” said Loki.

Tony chuckled.

“So, can we have permission to have your name in the Christmas poll?”

“Is Thor Odinson in it too?”

“Yup.”

Loki sighed, looked out the window. Saw more windows. He wasn’t really looking. 

“Same conditions as last year if we get paired up?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Another pause, a sigh.

“Alright,” said Loki.

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“That’s it?”

“Since you asked politely,” said Loki, his snark subdued, his heart not really in it. Another sigh. “Anyway, I could use the money. It will help with the moving.”

“Moving?” snapped Tony. “You’re moving? Where? When?” Panicky urgency in his voice.

“London. January.”

“You’re serious? Did a great opportunity come up or something?”

“Oh yes,” said Loki, huffing, moody all of a sudden. He got up and put his vintage furry coat back on. “I have the great opportunity of skipping out of this stinking town. Let me know when the poll closes.”

“Loki…” said Tony, big eyes, sad eyebrows, devastated.

Loki snorted, shook his head, walked out.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Colby Keller, the guy I'm very, veeeery loosely taking inspiration for Thor's porn actor personna, is currently on a trip around America, er, fucking guys who, as I understand, are not porn actors. "Colby does America", they call it, they have a tumblr and all, they put up behind the scene photos, some nsfw if you're thinking of checking it out. I'm not sure where the actual porn appears. So the idea for Thor and Fandral's trip obviously stems from this, but I haven't seen any of the actual vids and I made up everything about how the blog and updates work.
> 
> And those of you who follow the Dog, yes, I am tying a few loose ends here.


	4. Tactical withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki can run, but he cannot hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeeell what do you think. It started as a screwball comedy in my head, don't know how we ended up here. Oh well.
> 
>  
> 
> Dedicating this chapter to Writernotwaiting for your daily pickups. Bless you. If you're going through hell, keep going, they say, but it's easier if a kind soul is there to give you their hand. (I have more hands, you know who you are. You'll get your mention, and in the meantime, please receive my hugs. I love you guys. Thank you.)

 

 

Alright, Stark — thought Tony to himself, as Loki walked into the set and threw Thor a squint of pure, distilled hatred, which Thor met and easily matched — let's do this. Pills? Check. Chiropractor appointment? Check. Legalities? Check. This time it’s really you and your conscience. Are you really going to make these two men fuck, when their mutual antipathy can be detected from outer space? 

The set this time was the cozy interior of a log cabin, in a holiday resort two hours north of New York City, with a plain bed in one corner, metal frame, patchwork quilt in faded tones, a huge hearth in which half a tree was burning, at the very least (they had the air con blasting, just so that the fucking equipment didn't melt), several overlapping rugs laid in front of it - a feast of textures and colours-, and spare, primitive, folksy-style Christmas decor. It was rather lovely, if he was allowed to say so himself, and once more, a most unusual setting for a porno.

With his eyes still fixed on Loki, Thor stretched his shoulders, his biceps bulging outrageously. They didn’t call this guy Mighty for nothing. Meanwhile, also with his eyes set on Thor, Loki sat on the rugs in front of the fire, and aggressively spread his legs open to a full 180 degrees. There were several awed noises from the crew, but Thor clearly took it in the spirit it was intended, a challenge to the death.

Yes, thought Tony to himself, I am. I am going to make them fuck. For the safety of all of those involved, from the viewers, to the crew, to myself, and specially the safety of these two idiots, tension had to be released somehow, or we were risking a case of China Syndrome.

It’s not like it was coming as a surprise, that the antagonism these two had felt in the beginning had escalated to radioactive levels. If you had been at the last choreography meeting anyway.

“He’s not getting within ten feet of me without a full STD report. And I mean, I’m not even going to sit at the same table,” had been Loki’s opening salve, still in the hallway outside the meeting room, when Thor first arrived.

“You know how thorough our controls are, Loki,” intervened Pepper, her voice like a velvet glove around a fist of steel. 

Thor may have been about to say something, but everyone had heard Sif’s words, aimed at Thor but perfectly audible,

“…Leave it. It’s not worth it.”

Oh, Loki's expression, nostrils flaring, jaw clenching. School yard fighting words, those.

"Baby it's fine," said Darcy, "don't let it get to you. It's what he wants."

Oooookay.

Thor may be an impulsive man, but he had learned there was merit in biding one’s time. And he would get his comeback, of course he would. Tony had just finished exposing the general idea of what he was after this time (“simplicity”, he had said, “back to basics” — with the chemistry these boys had, acrobatics were superfluous), and now it was time to raise The Subject. 

"Alright then," (harrumph harrumph harrumph), "about anal..."

"That shouldn't be a problem for you, Laufeyson, right?" interrupted Thor casually. “I hear it's kind of a free for all these days." There was disdain in his tone, but something else entirely in his eyes; who the fuck did he think he was fooling. 

Well, Loki, apparently. If looks could kill, Tony would be needing to have a strange conversation with Mr. And Mrs. Odinson. 

"That's fucking rich coming from a man who's been giving it away to anyone that could be bothered to come and get it, all the way from Nantucket to El fucking Alamo,” said Loki, restrained anger giving his voice a rasp.

"Oh, so you've been following?" taunted Thor, maybe with a hint of surprise there too.

"Like I had nothing better to do,” said Loki, from up on high. “Not that I could possibly keep up. You’ve been _so very busy_ …” Ah, the ugly emphasis in those last few words.

"Gentlemen," cut in Pepper, her even, collected tone eliciting obedience. "May I remind you this is a work meeting, and that we are all professionals here. Personal matters stay outside this room."

Loki and Thor seemed to need a moment, and a solid jaw clench, to keep the rest of it in. 

Agreeing on a choreography was ridiculously easy, not that Tony had much faith in them keeping to it at all at the time of truth. Tony suggested, the boys shrugged. Nobody seemed fucking bothered. Loki acted supremely above it. “If we must…” he would say, or, “Yeah, whatever.” Thor tried to outdo him at every turn, (there was the danger he would end up dislocating a shoulder). But he was gritting his teeth, Loki’s aloofness grating on him even more than his previous hostility.

A last note before the meeting was dissolved. Probably unnecessary, come to think of it, because, frankly, Tony.

“Ah, um, the audience seemed to like the hate-sex last year,” he had said. “Do you guys think you could…?”

“No problem,” cut Thor, glaring daggers across the table.

“Yeah,” said Loki, returning the glare, with interest, “absolutely no problem.”

 

 

And here they were now, doing their warm-up exercises like they were gearing up for combat, stretching muscles with their gazes locked, zooming with aggression. They were also having a conversation under their breath, of which Tony and the sound team, by the way, were not missing a word.

“So, you’ve taken a liking for it then?” Thor was whispering, insidious. “Bottoming on camera? Your ass not so sacred now since I was there? Is it open season now?” He kept poking and taunting for a reaction. 

“Go fuck yourself, Odinson,” hissed Loki, spitting venom.

“You know what?” countered Thor. “I wish I could. I must be really something. I mean, you needed not one cock, but two, to get over me, didn’t you?” 

“What does that say about me, then?” Loki bit back, his tone deceitfully sweet. “You needed fucking _hundreds_.”

“That was an art project,” retorted Thor, dignified.

“That was art?” said Loki, with a contemptuous snort.

“Oh, right, I guess it wasn’t elevated enough for you, was it? What with your poxy band and your smarty-pants books. Well, did you hear about the documentary they’re cutting out of the material and the blog entries? We’re going to fucking Sundance with it.”

Loki’s face fell, hit in his weakest spot.

“You wouldn’t know real art if it bit you in the ass,” he spat.

“I’ll bite your ass and you tell me if you can feel it,” said Thor.

“Fuck you, Odinson,” said Loki, voice trembling with rage.

“No, fuck _you_ , Laufeyson,” said Thor.

They were staring each other down from three inches away, chests heaving in anger, and the rest of it. Tony could swear he could smell the ozone in the air from when their gazes were clashing, crackling with electricity.

“Fuck you, fuck you so much,” said Thor, breathy voice, his eyes on Loki’s face, his eyes, his mouth, down to his neck. He was hissing. “So much. All over the fucking set. On your back. On your front. On your goddamn knees. On the bed. On the floor. Against the wall. Hard and deep and long. Until you don’t fucking know what your name is. Until I’m satisfied that you’ll fucking think of me, and nobody else but me, every step you take, for weeks.”

They were panting, and there was a low thrum that the sound guys were checking out, though Tony should have told them not to bother, that it was likely coming from _them_.

“Uuuuh, guys?” tried Tony, meekly. “Two minutes.”

They broke eye contact to fulminate him in stereo for a brief moment. Then they took first positions, sitting down on the rugs, in front of the roaring fire. Was it the right moment to remind them that they were supposed to be starting soft? Never mind. 

They were back to looking at each other through an intense, burning squint. Well, what was the worst that could happen? That they broke a few more records? Tony got all the ok’s he needed, did the countdown, and gave the signal. This time, Loki did not wait. His voice was strained, eyes never leaving Thor’s.

“Hello, I’m Loki Laufeyson.”

 “And I’m Thor Odins- _glmbffffff_ …”

Loki pounced on him, and they were off, crashing mouths and pulling hair and nibbling earlobes and sucking necks and ripping shirts and fumbling with flies. Thor managed to hold Loki down on his back, and tugged his pants down roughly, dragging him towards him. He groaned when Loki's hand went for his crotch and squeezed him viciously through his jeans. He grabbed Loki’s wrists, held them in one strong, single-handed clasp, and pressed them against the rug over his head. Loki writhed, grunted, twisted, fighting and whimpering, his cock hard and beaded with pre-come, his shirt hanging open, and nothing else on.

“Yeah, that’s what you like, isn't it?” said Thor, positioning himself between Loki’s thighs, taunting him in a low, insolent whisper. “A big strong guy who will just make you _take_ it.” 

Loki’s response was an asp’s hiss, as he struggled in Thor’s iron grip, (while wrapping his legs around Thor's waist).

“Do I need to tie you? Is that what you want?” said Thor, provoking him.

Loki groaned for an answer, an animalistic, guttural sound, his eyes feverish and fixed. Thor laughed darkly, and pulled Loki’s shirt off down his arms, until the cuffs caught around his wrists. He gave the fabric a twist, and now Loki was bound. His back arched vigorously under Thor's grip, as he tried to gain some angle to kick and push, to no avail - he was pinned down by Thor's body between his legs. His hands may be tied, but he was far from outdone — he still had his mouth, and his very sharp, cutting tongue.

“Did you see how Steve lifted me up and made me ride his cock like I was fucking weightless? So hot and so strong, like a goddamn rodeo bull,” he whispered, vicious, eyes always boring on Thor's, who was panting with rage. Loki wasn't finished. “And Erik is so hung, when he was fucking me like that, I swear I could feel him in my throat. I couldn't walk for days... Did you see them come on me? How sweet they were when they marked me and claimed me...”

Thor roared, there was no other word for it. He turned him onto his front, Loki’s legs folded under his body, Thor always with a strong grip of the improvised binds around his wrists. 

“And yet you still came back for _this_ ,” he whispered against his skin, as he pushed his pants down to set his hard-on free. “Because you can’t fucking get enough, can you?” 

When he let go to put the condom on, Loki’s struggle with his binds was a ferocious, but token gesture. 

“Do you want it?” groaned Thor.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” spat Loki, head twisted to look at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Do you want it?” repeated Thor, a strong grip of Loki's wrists, as he pressed and rubbed his cock in the cleft between Loki's buttocks, without pushing in.

Loki was twisting and thrashing, grunting, not really trying to flee, apparently just fucking furious with the world in general, or this situation in particular; probably both.

“Do you fucking want it, Laufeyson?!” barked Thor.

“Yes, fuck! Now!” Loki barked back.

Thor took himself in hand and fucked right in, one single, deep shove. Tension all along Loki’s back as he felt Thor entering him.

They both exhaled in a short, strained huff when Thor bottomed out, Loki's muscles easing. Thor was still, mighty chest rising and falling in urgent breaths, that frown, his mouth hanging, as if he could not believe his eyes. Loki underneath him was panting, his ribs surging and vanishing in turns, his forehead pressed against the rug, eyes shut tight, his fists clenched, held together over the small of his back, knuckles white. 

“Loki…” sighed Thor, reaching to stroke his hair, raking his fingers deep into the scalp.

And damn if Loki didn’t nudge into the touch, right before he moved his head away and started to thrash and struggle again like a mad dog.

“Don’t you… fucking… _dare_!” he growled.

Well then.

“You want it rough?” said Thor, as he gripped Loki's hips with both hands and drove him back hard against his cock. "Then I'll give you rough."

“Oh god…” gasped Loki, fight leaving him.

Thor pulled out, and slammed right back in. He fucked him hard and fast, the power-horse in him taking control, Loki moaning loud and lewd, and without shame. Thor was not holding Loki’s wrists now, but Loki wasn’t fighting anymore, obviously enjoying being tossed and jostled this way and that with his thrusts. 

As the sensation build up, Thor’s battle lust seemed to dwindle. His pace was still relentless, but his expression had mellowed with pleasure. He leaned over Loki’s back to kiss his neck, the nubs of his spine. And what that he was mumbling now under his breath, that made Loki hiss back, short of breath, “shut up, shut up!”, and had him struggling and twisting again? Loki wiggled his arms out of the shirtsleeves, until they were free. Thor threw all his weight on top of him, crushing him out on his stomach on the rug, and gripped his wrists again with his hands, a strong hold, but gentle. He carried on fucking him with vigour, but not anger. He was mumbling again, his words unintelligible to Tony.

“Shut up…” Loki was begging, seeming to lose more of his conviction with every thrust. “Shut up…”

“What’s Thor saying?” whispered Tony.

Clint handed him a set of headphones.

“ _Loki… Loki…_ ”

Then, out of the blue, Loki had had enough.

“Shut up!” 

 _Ouch_ \- that elbow had gone right in the soft spot under Thor's ribs. Thor coughed and sat up holding his stomach, as Loki scrambled away, naked and hard and looking very, very pissed off. And confused. And vulnerable. 

Instead of the fury everyone was expecting, Thor gave Loki a pair of puppy eyes only some specially bred Bassett hounds are capable of. Loki had his arms around himself, chest rising agitatedly, his expression wary and hurt.

What the fuck was going on. Tony checked with Natasha. She shrugged and showed him the monitor. Right, so it seemed Stark Studios had an audience who enjoyed a bit of drama with their smut. The numbers were spectacular.

Thor took his clothes the rest of the way off. Naked and open, he took one cautious step towards him. Loki stood his ground. Another step, and Loki was still not running. Now Thor was right in front of him. Loki kept his eyes low. Thor cupped his chin, made him look up.

“This is not a porno, this is fucking _Gone with the Wind_ ,” muttered Clint.

And that was _before_ Thor took Loki in his arms for a lingering, swooping, passionate kiss, swept him off his feet, literally, and carried him bridal-style to the bed, eyefucking him intensely at every step. By the time they hit the bed, Loki was in shambles, all the rage and the fight had left his body, and in his eyes, staring back at Thor's, there was nothing but pure awe.

“Awww…” sighed fucking everyone in that set.

They fell together on the bed. Loki laid on his back, and spread his legs open to receive Thor. A long, strained moan, and his neck arched back when Thor entered him again. They started to move together, slowly at first, rolling hips as one, soft, breathy moans that got more high-pitched and more strangled as they fucked faster. Thor was brushing the hair off Loki’s face with tender hands, kissing him, breathing in his moans.

After a while, and by some unspoken agreement, they rolled over, Loki on top now. His spine curved and arched and snaked as he took what he needed from Thor’s cock, Thor’s hands feeling his body from shoulders to hips, pumping up from below to give Loki more contact and more intensity. 

“Yes…” sighed Loki, “yes…” He was blissed out, eyes closed. Thor’s gaze on his face was revering.

Loki picked up the pace, slamming down heavily. Thor tried to match it.

“That’s it… yes… _yes_ …” moaned Loki, hands flat on Thor's chest. 

Hands on Loki’s hips, Thor held him up, and started pumping into him as if steam-powered. Loki’s sounds became whiny, choked up, the fleshy, wet clash of their bodies audible throughout the set. Thor grabbed Loki’s cock, flapping between them. Loki went rigid and his expression froze in a pained scrunch. He stayed still to feel Thor fucking into him and his fist jerking him off. He whimpered desperately when he came on Thor’s chest, between shudders, Thor stroking him through it until his brow smoothed out, and he started breathing again. 

And even then, all Thor seemed to want from him was to look at him. Loki opened his eyes dozily, licked his lips, and was still for the brush of Thor’s hand down his cheek. 

And Loki started to move, slowly at first, determinedly soon after, eyes fixed on Thor. Thor was huffing short, strong breaths, Loki working him ruthlessly. 

“Come on,” whispered Loki, “come on.”

“Loki,” muttered Thor, gruff, “Loki, I’m… Loki… I'm going to...”

“Come on.”

Thor looked savaged, holding on for dear life. He was on the very edge, unable to muster enough will power to get Loki off him as he rode him to climax.

“Loki… fuck, _Loki_ …”

“That’s it…”

“Loki…”

“Inside me,” whispered Loki. “Come inside me.”

“Oh _fuuuuck_ …!” groaned Thor, long and husky and low, and the viewers would have to take it on faith from his strained expression, his last moans, the sudden jolting and jerking of back and legs, and his shuddery relaxation right after, that he had violently orgasmed inside Loki’s greedy body. 

And maybe also from the pure heavenly afterglow spreading all over him as he laid there, peaceful, staring up, Loki’s come on his stomach still, Loki’s frown like a quiet interrogation sign. Their breathings calmed down. Thor held his hand. Loki let him weave their fingers together, gazes locked at all times.

 

After a long time, and still feeling horribly guilty, Tony cleared his throat.

“Guys, we’re offline.”

Loki blinked and broke eye contact. The spell had been lifted. Gingerly, he unmounted. Tony half expected him to run, but he didn’t. He seemed lost in thought, but with a dignified air, and no rush. He put on his robe, had a drink, and followed his assistant into the adjacent lodge they had reserved as his changing room. Perhaps he didn’t want to appear too affected. It wouldn’t be Tony the one to tell him that this ship had sailed. There had been a ribbon ceremony and everything.

 

 

*

 

 

Loki took a seat in the lobby of the resort's reception building, waiting for the crew to finish packing up, to hitch a ride back to the city. The dated wicker furniture and the pretty damn awful flowery curtains reminded him of the summer camp he was forcibly dispatched to as a child. Even the musty, plasticky smell matched his memories of that godforsaken place. 

Thor appeared not long after, and hesitated on his feet for a moment, while Loki swallowed dry, making a point not to fidget. He probably looked stiff as a board instead. Thor cleared his throat as he took a seat in another of those ugly wicker armchairs, and started fiddling with his phone.

But for them, the lobby was deserted. A phone went off in the reception desk, and nobody turned up to answer. The silence between them was awkward as fuck, seemed like every breath and every creak of the chairs and the floorboards under their feet could be heard, loud and stark. 

“That was good work in there,” said Thor, after a while, trying to fill the strained silence.

“You’re joking, right?” snapped Loki. “That was all over the fucking place. We completely ignored everything that was agreed at the choreography meeting.”

Thor chuckled. Loki's stomach did a thing.

“Yeah, well," said Thor. "I call it being spontaneous.”

“I call it losing the plot,” mumbled Loki. He wasn't looking for a fight. 

He sensed Thor’s gaze on him, those deep blue eyes he had had the chance to look into unhindered for six weeks worth of road-trip vids. They were a completely different thing from barely a wicker coffee table away, weren’t they? He could not meet Thor’s gaze now. He felt physically unable. And by the by, these were the first civilised words they had ever said to each other since they had met. Hey ho, let's write it in our journal when we get home; better still, let's mark the day in the calendar and make it a national holiday, how's that. 

“I hear you’re moving?” said Thor, casual and light again, as if their entire relationship to date had not consisted of trying to kill each other whenever there was a chance. “London, was it?”

“Yup.”

“Have you got family there or…?”

Loki snorted. What a ridiculous notion. He had a vision of Laufey in a brown tweed three-piece suit and a bowl hat. The monocle and the pocket watch were optional, but recommended.

“Definitely not," he said.

“I thought, because of your accent…”

“Pure affectation, my dear” he said, with his best Classic BBC diction. And with his normal voice, “I come from a long, proud line of country bumpkins.” 

“Is there anyone there waiting for you? In England, I mean.”

What’s it to you, Odinson?

“No,” he said. “Fresh start, clean slate.”

“Is it permanent?”

“Yup.”

“Aren’t your folks going to miss you? I mean, if you’ve got any. I mean… Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” 

“Considering that my father used to congratulate himself daily for _not_ abandoning me on a frozen rock at birth,” interrupted Loki, “and that he believes it’s actually very progressive of him not to have chased me out of the house, even when it became more and more obvious that, in spite of our manly, outdoorsy, pioneer lifestyle, I had still come out gay, and bearing in mind that neither he nor my brothers have spoken to me in… hm, seven years, no, I don’t think they’re going to miss me that much.”

Good work, Laufeyson, one can always count on you to make any social situation way too heavy and uncomfortable.

“What happens to the band?” asked Thor after a couple of minutes.

Loki rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was resilient, by Jove. He had not expected the conversation to recover from his last bout.

“Well, I can hardly take them with me, can I?” he said.

“That’s such a shame… You guys were good. You were the star, of course, but they set you out very nicely.”

Ok, now Loki had a full-on frown. Was he mocking him?

“You’ve seen us play?”  A dismissive, skeptical huff, just in case.

“Yeah.”

Loki's frown got deeper.

“You guys write your own material, don't you?” said Thor.

“Yes. I do.”

“Really?” said Thor. “I thought it was brilliant. I bought your CD and all. Why is there only one? And you’re an incredible performer. You have so much presence on stage, and such a beautiful voice, you make every song into, like, a short story. I don’t understand why you’re not a rock star already.”

“Get the fuck out,” snapped Loki. He was still frowning, edgy with mistrust, his spikes all up.

But it just did not seem like Thor was taking the piss out of him. Loki was not good at this kind of thing, but even he could not react to Thor's open, patient, candid expression with more snark. Didn't mean he had to look at him while he spoke, though. 

“I’m a tough sale,” Loki said.

“Are you?”

“I have a temper,” he declared, as if it was some sort of allergy. “I don’t put up easily with stupidity, and there’s so fucking much of it, all over the place, all the fucking time. So I tend to… alienate people. Until I find a music executive who’s fine with being told that there are dancing bears with a better understanding of good music than them, better taste, and more sohisticated brains, I’m never going to go far in this industry. I guess I'll have to wait for the day Tony Stark decides to branch out.”

“Right,” laughed Thor. “Yeah, I’m familiar with that temper, come to mention it. And with that tongue of yours.”

Loki’s expression turned sour. Yeah, hm, very funny. Did Thor think Loki enjoyed being an unbearable, hateful jerk, who would never amount to anything in life because he could not fucking control his tantrums, like a fucking toddler? 

“I kinda like it,” said Thor. 

Loki felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and a mighty need to squeak. Their eyes connected. Loki blinked.

 _Ping_!

“Fuck,” grumbled Thor. He checked his phone again, texted something.

Loki stopped himself when he realised he was wringing his hands.

“Can you at least keep the same literary agent?” asked Thor after a minute. “Or is that not practical, if you’re overseas.”

Loki huffed resoundingly. Thor was going to stick his finger into every single fucking sore, wasn’t he? 

“I’ll have to make it work somehow,” he mumbled. “It’s not like I have a dozen more banging at my door, begging to represent me.”

“No?”

“…The common agreement among the critics is that I only write self-involved, over-cryptical, unreadable garbage,” recited Loki, aiming for nonchalant.

“That’s unfair!” jumped Thor. “I mean, your poetry is demanding, sure, and difficult to access, even enigmatic at times, but I find that, once you reach beneath the outer layer, which is beautifully suggestive and evocative, there’s a whole system there, deep and cohesive and honest, that speaks important truths about relating to the world, and the struggle with loneliness, and overcoming self-loathing and resentment.” He was gesturing, his words rushed with his passion, his eyes animated with it, fucking _shining_. “There’s so much stuff packed into every line, and the images you create are always so powerful, and your metaphors are so witty, and so surprising… How can they say it's garbage? Lazy, shallow, brainless assholes, all of them.”

Loki was gaping in astonishment.

“What?” laughed Thor, scratching his head. “Don’t look so surprised. I know I don’t look it, but I do have a brain. And I can read and all. It’s sort of an entry requirement for college.”

“You went to college?” said Loki. Then a skeptical note. “Ok, what sport.”

Thor smirked. It couldn’t be the first time people made that assumption. He did not seem bothered, comfortable in the answer he had to give. 

“I _was_ offered a sports scholarship,” he said. “Football. But I turned it down. I was never interested in going pro with it in the first place, and it would have taken time away from studying, so.”

Good job Loki was sitting down. 

“Wh-what did you study?”

“Art history, majored in cinema studies.”

Loki blinked, and blinked again. His world was being turned upside down.

“And you? Did you go to college?” asked Thor.

Yup, it would appear Mr. Odinson here was going to leave no fucking bruise unpoked.

“Dropped out after a couple of semesters,” said Loki, his tone artificially unaffected.

“How come?”

“Couldn’t afford it. Nobody offered me a sports scholarship, and I couldn’t keep a job to get a loan.”

“Oh? Why was that?”

Loki shrugged. “Temper.”

Why was Thor looking at him like this, like Loki was something precious he had just put down in a cot and tucked in, after fucking burping him and lullabying him to sleep?

“I’ve mellowed a lot since then,” said Loki, struggling to look up. Thor’s warm expression was unsettling him badly. 

When Thor arched his eyebrows in mock surprise, Loki smirked, and continued the joke. 

“Yes, believe it or not, I used to be even worse than I am now.”

“Jesus,” Thor feigned a gasp of shock, humour in his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.” And softly, not joking now, “I-I used to have a lot of rage.”

Thor nodded silently, still that faint smile there, that warm, warm glow in his eyes. His phone pinged again.

“I guess it’s only reasonable, with what you’ve told me about… about your family,” said Thor, ignoring the text warning.

Loki looked away. Yeah, what power had compelled him to tell him his miserable life story? Oh, right, it had to be that vocational degree in self-pity he had earned through many years hard work. 

“What were you studying?” asked Thor.

“Comparative lit.”

“Oh, yeah. I thought about that too, but I’ve always loved movies. Those golden oldies…” a broad smile.

Loki smiled too, without reserve this time, could not hold it back. He met Thor’s eyes, they were dazzling. His breath caught. The silence stretched. Thor looked down, shy all of a sudden.

“Anyway, you don’t need college to be a great writer,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll-you’ll do fine. You’re so talented.”

Loki snorted.

“I’m not talented,” he groused. “I’m average at best, and I have no fucking self-discipline to improve at anything I’m half-good at.” Couldn’t help himself this time either. That’s what happened when you prodded long enough right bang where it really hurt.

Thor was looking at him under a pair of eyebrows tilt-perfect to express compassion.

“You _are_ talented,” he said. “You are.” He must have seen Loki’s dismissive scowl. He proceeded with a downbeat tone and a shrug. “Or I think so anyway. But what do I know, I’m just a porn actor.”

And why did that tone break Loki’s heart like that. For some reason, he could not bear to think he was making Thor feel stupid.

“Not just _a_ porn actor,” he said, a shy whisper. “The best.”

Thor looked at him, eyes intent. Loki’s heart was racing. He felt it, that zap, that thrum, that plunge in his stomach when their eyes locked. Vertigo. Was this real? Was this happening?

_Rrrrrrrrring! Rrrrrrrrrring!_

Thor cursed, rolling his eyes.

“Just give me a minute, ok?” he said in Loki’s direction. He stood up, moved a few steps away, and took the call. “Balder, not now. …Yeah, but… No, but… No, fuck, don’t get him on the fucking pho-…”

Loki sat there twiddling his thumbs, trying not to listen. Thor had turned his back to him while he tried to shake this Balder off with some measure of civility, even though he was huffing and puffing under his breath, and clearly out of patience with him. 

“Balder, please, you can’t just keep fucking ringing me at work and…”

That was him, this Balder, wasn’t he? That was Loki in two weeks. The guy who can’t get the message when they’re trying to lay him off gently, the guy who wilfully misses all the fucking signs, just because he’s desperate to believe that this time it will be different. 

His chest had started heaving fast, his throat had knotted tight. He was going to fucking cry.

He grabbed his things and dashed out. The reception door’s bell chimed again after him. 

“Loki! Loki, wait!”

He ran. There was a bus stop just outside the main gate, slow, creaking, antediluvian coaches that must make a million stops and would get him to the city no early than fucking midnight. Still, he preferred that to waiting another minute in that lobby next to Thor.

You’re an idiot, Laufeyson, he kept telling himself. He’s gorgeous, he’s rich, he’s famous, he’s a sex god, and now it would appear that, on top of everything else, he also has a fucking class A brain. Men flock by the hundreds and hover around his feet for ten minutes of his time. What the fuck would he want with you? You’re a mediocre little shit who’s been nothing but an asshole to him since _before_ you even fucking met. And he’s already _had_ you.

 _“…But he was interested! He was!”_ whined that little voice inside, the one that always ended up getting his heart broken.

Yeah, so maybe he was going to ask you out for a drink. And then maybe he was going to take you home and fuck you. Maybe even for a few weeks. He does that, he does that a lot. But what do you think was going to happen next? That he would fall in love with you or something? He fucks them and then he drops them, that’s what he does. And Loki did not have the fucking time, or the inclination, or the emotional stamina for that matter, to put himself through this again. Been there, done that, worn the fucking t-shirt. 

Because everybody wanted Loki, but nobody wanted to fucking keep him. Men went to bed with the pretty, haughty, fabulous diva, and they woke up with _him_ , the needy, pathetic idiot who got over-attached, with all those suffocating, paralysing insecurities he carried wherever he went, because he had not had enough love as a child or something. And nobody wanted to put up with that pitiful, broken creature after the thrill of the honeymoon was gone. He was simply not worth the effort, was he? Too high-maintenance for so many headaches.

And if it had hurt with all the Mr. Wrongs that had come before, imagine trying to get over being dumped by Mr. Right. With the whole world at his feet, you think Thor Odinson would be any different? Get fucking _real_ , Laufeyson.

So, no, he was not going to put himself through this. Alone was better. Alone was fucking bearable. London awaited, seven million strangers who did not know him and didn’t care. He would keep to himself and never try to make any fucking friends, and he would be safe there in that nowhere land, minding his own business, hoping for nothing, and getting it in abundance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really have waited for an extra-read with fresh eyes tomorrow, but stmonkeys is taking a plane and could use some reading material, didn't you dear? I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Oh, and welcome, Darth :o*
> 
>  
> 
> "Hoping for nothing and getting it in abundance" is a paraphrase of a line in The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
> 
> and DANG i knew i was forgetting something. Rita Hayworth, who had a very miserable love life, used to say "all the men in my life went to bed with Gilda and woke up with me." (I would want to give Rita Hayworth so many hugs, poor broken soul.)


	5. Never give up, never surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not really up to you, Tony,” said Pepper. “Nobody has asked you to play matchmaker. It’s their life, not yours.”  
> “But they’re fucking perfect for each other! They need each other! They complete each other! The universe needs this to happen!”
> 
> \-- basically that's the summary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do make sure to check the SIMPLY FUCKING AWESOME ART Their Highness Noirefilthythoughts made for this fic. It's now proudly featured at the beginning of chapter one, and it's absolutely beautiful. Go go go! Go now! I'll wait!

 

When Tony got to the lounge to collect his stars, he found Thor alone, slumped on a wicker armchair, phone in his hand, eyes lost in space, brooding. He was almost afraid to ask, but…

“Where is Loki?”

Thor shrugged. He looked miserable.

“Thor…? What happened?”

“We were talking so nicely,” said Thor, dejected, “and all of a sudden he took off on me.” 

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing!” protested Thor, offended. “I don’t know. Who the hell knows, with this man. I don’t have a fucking clue.”

Tony sighed.

“Ok, big guy, get in the car. I’m taking you home.”

 

It was a couple of hours back to the city, and it seemed that, if it was down to Thor, it would be a quiet trip.

“Ok, then,” said Tony, once they had left behind the twisty-turny country lanes that lead to the mountain resort, and entered the highway. “You and Loki. Spill.”

“Me and Loki what,” said Thor, on the defensive.

“What are you going to do about this thing between you two.”

“What thing.”

Playing dumb, aren’t we?

“Sweetheart, please. If you were called Fernando and he was called Gertrudis, I’d be forced to name this film _Pasiones_.”

Tony spied that clench in Thor’s jaw. And in his fists. And he tried to check the buttocks, just in case they were clenching as well. Thor looked about as ready to talk as a brick.

Well, then, it seemed like the nice and calm approach was not going to get them anywhere. This boy here needed to be shaken out of it.

“Do you love him, Odinson?” said Tony, with the energy of a preacher of the Pentecostal Church. “Do you really, really love him? Bells, whistles, and oh glory, amen, hallelujah?”

Thor turned his surly face to the window, stubborn.

“Open your heart, let the truth shine, come on,” urged Tony.

Thor rolled his eyes.

“Do you fucking love him, Thor?!” shouted Tony.

The addressee flinched. “I don’t know, ok?”

“The hell you don’t know!” shouted Tony, determined not to let him off the hook. “It’s really not that hard! Do you want to hold him and treat him right, every day and every night? Do you want to be together with a roof right over your heads, share the same room and Jah provide the bread? Are you willing and able? Then put your fucking cards on the table! Is this love that you’re feeling?”

“Goddammit, Tony!” complained Thor, scrubbing his red, hot face. He was struggling with himself, a tug-o-war between the need to protect his feelings and the impulse to shout them out loud for the world to know. It resolved into a mousy, shy mutter. “I-I think I do, yes.”

“You _think_?!" No mercy.

“I do, ok?!” said Thor, defeated. “I fucking love him! I love Loki! There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic!” said Tony. No, he wasn’t. He was ready to strangle him. “I gave you his fucking number! Why, why, _why_ did you not call?”

Thor covered his face with his hands again. He looked harassed.

“I don’t fucking know, ok?! I was going to! I just… Damn!” And after a few seconds, in a pitiful, dispirited murmur, “I don’t know why. I just didn’t. I fucked up. It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he’s moving a bazillion miles away. Can you imagine _me_ in a distance relationship?”

“Oh, no, no, no. No he isn’t. He’s not moving. Not even to fucking Queens,” said Tony. “If you think I’m going to let this sad, lonely, beguilingly seductive idiot fly himself to the other side of the ocean all alone, think again. And neither are you, by the way.”

Thor’s flaring nostrils suggested he was getting a bit sick of this verbal pushing around. Well, tough fucking titties. Tony stood his ground, and it sort of worked. The nostrils, at least, stopped flaring.

“Listen, Tony, I…” Thor sounded a lot more subdued now. “I sort of appreciate what you’re doing, and I see what you’re getting at, but… This is ridiculous, ok?”

“What is?”

“No matter how I feel, this was never going to work.”

“Says who.”

“Oh, please. He’s… What the hell is he? I can’t fucking understand him! He would drive me completely round the bend after two weeks. Nothing he does makes sense!”

“That’s not true,” said Tony.

“Well, whatever. All I know is, it would never work, ok?”

Tony sighed.

“Listen, I know he’s, uh, difficult. Complicated. Not a walk in the park, that’s for sure, more like a roller-coaster ride, with wet parts, and really high hills, and mad plunges, and long, deep tunnels, and it's a thrill, and a rush, and it's a bit scary but...” (Where was he. Oh.) “He’s… well, he’s been hurt before, and has some trust issues. And self-esteem issues. …And family issues. And…”

“What do you expect me to do, Tony? I’m not a shrink. Or a social worker.”

“He does not need a social worker, for fuck's sakes! What he needs is… he needs a good man who really cares, someone who won’t ask for a refund the moment things get real. And, yeah, perhaps some therapy too, but with someone he loves, and who loves him back, holding his hand while he gets it.”

“Oh, Tony… Don’t you know me? I want an easy life. I haven’t been in a relationship since I was twenty, because I could not fucking be bothered. Too much hassle. And you think I’m the person who can give Loki what he needs?”

“Thor, darling, you have actual hearts in your physical eyes when you look at him. You’ve been pining for him since last Christmas, lost in your own little love bubble. Don’t tell me this would be just ‘a relationship’ to you. This is Loki Laufeyson we’re talking about, your one-way ticket to Wowzers Ville. _Of course_ you can be bothered!”

“Sounds like it should be you going after him,” countered Thor, cutting. Territorial, perhaps. “If you like him so much, how come it never worked out between you two?”

“Because two train-wrecks don’t make a right. We have more issues between Loki and me than the goddamn National Geographic Magazine, most of them in the daddy department. Cosmo Relationship Tip #69, severe daddy issues is _not_ something you want to have in common with your other half. I adore him, true that, but I’m not the man for him, and he’s not the one for me.” A sigh. “No, what he needs is a wholesome guy, like you, full of joy and self-confidence, who can really open up his heart and let him in. Someone he can feel safe and wanted and treasured with. A nice, warm place he can always go back to.”

“So what do _I_ need, O Wise One?” 

Sarcasm, eh? Tony picked up the gauntlet.

“You need a sexy, snarky little shit who’s physiologically incapable of being boring. Someone so electrifying, he will make everyone else you’ve ever been with seem as limp and soggy as a steamed clam. Someone who will always keep you guessing, and never let you take him for granted. Someone who makes you work for it. Someone who rocks your entire universe and leaves your head spinning. Someone _fun_.” 

Thor had a stubborn, petulant air about him. But Tony was not finished.

“Someone you can look after,” he added. “Someone you can do some good to. Someone who has never known what it is to have a family. Someone who needs you more than air. Someone who can’t help himself when he’s around you, who’s tried to keep his heart locked shut and push you out, and has failed every single time. The lock to your key, if I may.”

Without its owner's permission, Thor’s expression had turned softer, longing. He squared it.

“I have a damn good life as it is. Why would I make it harder for myself? He sounds like… complications, headaches. I'm not looking for a full-time job chasing after him, and dancing the fucking Loki-cokey to whatever tune he feels like playing that day. I don’t need this, any of this.” 

“Listen, pal, what you don’t understand is, this has no turning back. Take it from one who’s been soundly taken. You think you can go back to the way it was before you met that person, but you can’t. Because you used to think you had it all, that you had all you needed, but when he leaves, you’ll find out that you didn’t. But you could. You could have it all. All you have to do is reach out and… Goddammit, Thor, how can I get it in your head without physically hitting you with a hammer? If you let him go, you’ll regret this, for the rest of your natural goddamn life. And not even the satisfaction of witnessing how very right I was, as you grow old and bitter longing for what might have been, will make it up to me.” He sighed dramatically. "Just ask Pepper. She too tried to pass on the awesome. People like Loki and me, we're high-maintenance, but we more than make up for it." A wink.

“I just don’t get it, Tony. Just, what's it to you? What?!”

“I care about you!” he said. “Both of you. And I care about balance in the Force. And you guys being a pair of bullheaded asses are upsetting it."

They drove in silence for some time.

“Thor, listen to me, if you let this…”

“Tony, please, enough,” cut Thor, sounding weary. “I would have liked it, ok? But it’s not going to happen. Drop it. Please.”

Tony sighed heavily. He would not be getting anywhere with this tonight. Retreat, gather your troops, salvage what you can, and live to fight another day. It was so annoying, though.

“I’ve never met such a massive pair of imbeciles in my life,” he grumbled.

Thor did not dignify that with a replica.

 

 

_____________

 

 

 

“Knock knock! May I come in?”

“Who the fuck is this?” came Loki’s voice from somewhere in the apartment. “Tony? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Tony took that as "Loki-ese" for  _yes, please, do come in, make yourself at home_. He walked through piles of boxes, garbage bags, empty shelves, walls stripped bare. So this was for real, then… He had been hoping it was all a ruse, Loki being the over-dramatic diva they all knew and loved. Well, not this time. For once, Mr. Silvertongue actually meant it.

He found Loki in his bedroom (ah, the memories), sitting on the bed (AH, the memories!), sorting through some papers, separating them into piles. He was wearing a pair of retro black paste glasses, and had put his hair up in a loose bun. He looked nerdy and dorky and absolutely divine. 

“You’ve come to lend a hand?” he mused, absent-mindedly. “Just when all the heavy lifting is done. Why, thank you very much.”

“I just stopped by to see how you were doing,” said Tony, ignoring the sarcasm. “You disappeared so suddenly the other day. I was afraid you’d take off without saying goodbye.”

“You were all taking too fucking long,” said Loki, distractedly, eyes scanning quickly over the wordy document in his hand.

“Did you get there any quicker by coach?” asked Tony.

“I met some interesting characters.”

“And you hated every minute of it.”

“Why do people have to _smell_?” said Loki, wrinkling his nose.

Tony laughed and sat down with him on the bed. It earned him a glower over the rim of Loki's glasses when one of the piles shifted slightly.

“You’re not sleeping much, are you?” said Tony. Hard not to notice the dark bags under Loki’s eyes.

“Moving is stressful.”

“So don’t. Stay here.”

“Ha,” said Loki, eyes on his papers. And absently, as if thinking out loud. “I don’t even know what half of these are.”

“What are you going to do over there all by yourself?” he asked.

“I don’t know? Exciting, isn’t it?” said Loki, toneless.

“We’re all going to miss you so much.”

Loki raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, and back to scanning.

“It’s all beginning to look the same to me,” he muttered. “I should get Darcy’s minion’s to do it.”

“Thor is going to miss you.”

Loki’s brow scrunched up. 

“I should just burn all of these, fuck it," he groaned.

“Loki…”

“What!” a bark. He pushed the papers away and strode to the bathroom ( _hnnng_ , the memories...) 

“He’s heartbroken, you know?” said Tony.

“Oh, for god’s sake!” said Loki over the noise of toiletries being jostled around. “By next week he won’t even remember my fucking name.”

“Don’t be silly, he really cares about you,” said Tony when Loki returned, arms full of pots and tubes. He started to put them aggressively in a box.

“He cares about my ass,” said Loki under his breath. “Any ass.”

“He cares about your fucking soul, you melon!” said Tony. “He’s pining for you, hard! You should fucking see him when he’s not shooting, he sighs more than a Regency Era lady! I’ve never seen him like this, ever! And do you know he carries your books around everywhere? And he writes on them. He underlines them. I’m talking triple lines here, thick ones. And exclamation marks all over the place. He’s crazy about your writing…”

“I’ll send him a signed copy.”

“Loki…”

“God sakes, what!” He rubbed his forehead two-handed, as if trying to massage away a migraine, his shoulders slumped. He was torn apart, wasn't he? And Tony kept prodding and poking right on the sore spot.

“You may be missing out on something good here, don’t you know?” Tony told him.

“Do _you_ know?” countered Loki. “I’ll tell you what it’s going to be like. A couple of weeks rolling and tumbling, and then it’s kiss and goodbye. I’ve had enough of these to last me a lifetime. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“That’s not what this is about. When I say he really cares about you…”

“He doesn’t fucking know me!” snarled Loki. “You think he really cares about me because he reads my shit? He likes Loki the rock star, like the rest of them! What happens when I can’t keep up the fiction anymore? When I drop the mask and he discovers that it’s not all wine and roses? That I have fucking _feelings_ , that I _need_ things, besides oxygen and cock? Do you want me to tell you what happens then? That he’ll fuck off, like they all do! …Nobody ever cares that much. Don’t I know it.” This last bit, a bitter whisper.

Tony had to suppress the urge to wrap him in a blanket and take him home. Would Pepper let him keep him?

“It’s true that you’ve had bad luck with men, or a terrible taste, but…”

“Tony, if that will be all, I’m really very fucking busy.”

Tony sighed. He let Loki walk him (push him) to the door. Before Loki shut it in his face, he made one last attempt, for which he needed to unleash the power of his big brown eyes. Not even Pepper was immune to that one. It made Loki huff.

“What.”

“Thor is not like the rest of those assholes,” said Tony. “He’s a decent guy. And he loves you.”

Loki looked away, a bitter gesture on his mouth.

“And for what it’s worth,” added Tony, “ _I_ care about you very much. And I will miss you.”

“Bye, Tony,” said Loki, and shut the door two inches away from his nose.

 

 

 

_______________

 

 

 

In Pepper’s office, pacing, huffing and puffing.

“Tony, sweetie,” she sighed, “can you please do this in your own office.”

“They’re madly in love with each other!” he said. “And they won’t do anything about it, because they’re stupid and scared! These two idiots!”

Pepper gave him a look of despair. Tony didn’t notice her, of course, and kept pacing and pacing, absorbed in that dreadful conundrum. And since leaving him to it did not seem to be cutting this any shorter, she realised she would have to engage.

“It’s not really up to you, Tony,” she said. “Nobody has asked you to play matchmaker. It’s their life, not yours.”

“But they’re fucking perfect for each other! They need each other! They complete each other! The universe needs this to happen!” 

A minor eye-roll on her end.

“...Still.”

“I don’t want Loki to move to the other side of the ocean,” he said, the only child in him shining through. “It’s unthinkable. Can’t happen. He’ll be all alone there, god knows what new, unexpected ways he’ll come up with to fuck up his life.”

“He’s a grown man,” she argued. “He can make his own decisions.”

“He’s not making a grownup decision!” countered Tony. “He’s running away from love and happiness and true companionship, out of fear and stubbornness and pride! That’s not deciding, that’s fleeing in a panic! I can’t just sit by and watch it happen!”

“I’m beginning to see that," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“They’re both over-thinking this,” proceeded Tony. “Whenever they’re together, their brains go off and the pheromones take over. They know what’s real then, you can see it in their eyes. All their doubts disappear, their souls are bare, they just feel. It’s so fucking beautiful. If we could only put them together one more time, they just would not be able to help themselves. …But Thor refuses to so much as send him a text, and hell will freeze over before Loki sticks his neck out and risks taking the first step. Jesus, they’re made for each other, mules, both of them! Just, what can I do? Oh, god, send me a sign or something!” he cried to the heavens.

Pepper sighed, with that look on her face, the “do I have to do everything around here" kind of look. She picked up the phone.

“Hello, may I speak with Miss Lewis, please. …Stark Studios, Virginia Potts. Yes, I’ll wait.” She tapped her nicely manicured nails on the desk, rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat. “Hello, Darcy, how are you. …Yes, I’m fine. Thanks. Listen, I’ve got a favour to ask. It’s going to be the Studios’ five year anniversary in October, and we wanted to put together a little celebration. We'll be offering several promotions and organizing a couple of events, and we're going to release five specials featuring our most popular pairings. I don’t need to tell you which is our absolute top, king pairing, do I? But of course, with Loki moving away, we would need to get him now, before he leaves. Do you think it would be possible…? …Yes, I’m aware that availability is an issue, but if he could make a bit of time for us, we’re ready to accommodate him. Let me emphasize how much it would mean to us. There simply cannot be a proper five year anniversary without Loki. …Yes. …Yes, I’m aware of that too. …I know. Believe me, I know, but we’re willing to make it worth his trouble. We really, really want this to happen. … Thank you very much, dear, you’re a star. I’ll be waiting for your call. Bye-bye now.”

Tony had been watching her more and more like one looks at the rising sun. 

“You… genius!” he said. “You gorgeous, radiant, wonderful, awesome genius!”

She gave him a “bitch, please” face and picked up the phone again. A similar conversation took place with Sif.

“… Oh, yes, absolutely, Loki is in, one hundred percent. Thor is his favourite scene partner, he’s looking forwards to working with him one last time.” (How boldly she lied, he thought, not one hair out of place. What a woman. Rawr.) “…Yes, you tell him that. …Alright, Sif, thank you. Have a nice day. Bye now.”

Tony had no words. Under her calm, collected exterior, she may have looked a bit smug. Hm, that kind of mood was always promising. Perhaps they would have a date with Jarvis tonight…

“What now?” he said.

“Now, we wait,” said she. “But not here.” A stern pair of eyebrows froze Tony’s foot mid-air, before he could get back to his nervous pacing.

He duly made his way out of there, docile. He went to plug in the batteries. Who would have said, eh? Competence. Efficiency. Ruthlessness. What an amazing turn-on.

 

 

***

 

 

“My brain is telling me one thing, but my heart is telling me another,” moped Thor, cradling a coffee cup in his hands. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Are you sure these are the organs involved in this?” said Sif, skeptical.

He threw her a surly squint. He was not in the mood.

“The thing is, it’s not even healthy, is it?” he resumed. “That I should fall for someone like him? Why not a nice, dependable guy, with a healthy self-esteem, someone who can take all I have to give? Someone balanced and reliable and mature? Someone who makes some fucking sense?” 

She had nothing, so she shrugged in solidarity. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. 

“But I don’t want anyone else, I want him. Jesus, I love him. Whenever I think that he’ll be leaving by the end of the month and I’ll never see him again, I… Fuck. Just, what do I do, Sif? Tell me I need to forget him. Tell me it’s just a whim, that I’m obsessing over what I can’t have. Because I swear sometimes I think I’m going completely bananas. I can’t stop thinking about him, but it’s like, the most ridiculous things… Like, does he like cats or dogs? Would he get along with my family? Which side of the bed does he sleep in? If we had kids, would they have his surname or mine? Listen to me! If we had kids? What the fuck? ...And the other day I wondered how he would look as an old man, and I imagined him all wrinkly and grey, and being all snarky and grouchy and driving the nurses in the care home up the wall, and still swearing more than a sailor, and I felt like this warmth inside, and I got a stupid smile on my face, and…" A long, exhausted exhale. "Oh, Sif, help me…”

She had a good gulp of her coffee, hot enough that it made her grimace like Humphrey Bogart after a stiff shot of whiskey.

“Alright, Thor,” she declared. “I’m not even sure I should be telling you this, because you’ve obviously lost the little sense you had, and this might just make you worse, but anyway, here goes. I’ve known you since we were kids, and I’ve never seen you like this over anyone, except perhaps at fourteen, and he went by Jones, first name Indiana. It’s been over a year, and you’re still constantly Loki this and Loki that. And you could psychoanalyze this to death, sure. Yes, perhaps you want him because he’s making it so hard. Perhaps every other man in your life just made it too easy. Or perhaps you were married in a past life, or you accidentally drunk the same love potion, or maybe you’ve been cursed by a vengeful ancient spirit, how the hell should I know. The thing is, you’re twenty-eight, and I was beginning to fear this would never happen. I was afraid you’d spent the next twenty years jumping from bed to bed, and telling the world it was all fine, just because you’re terrified of settling down and being bored. The one thing I know for sure is this: you’re in love, dude. Whatever it was you were missing in every other man you've ever met, Loki has it, god help us all. So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Jesus,” said Thor, floored by his friend’s blunt, take-no-prisoners diagnose.

He sat there in silence for a long time, thunderstruck, his mind reeling. He mindlessly registered Sif having another gulp of her drink, and he found himself wondering whether Loki preferred his coffee white or black, with or without sugar, or whether he was more for tea. Before he knew it, he was imagining waking him up with breakfast in bed, his green eyes still heavy, all languid and sexy, smiling when he smelled the freshly baked, still hot croissants Thor had gone to fetch for him in the bakery around the corner from his place. Or did Loki prefer muffins? ( _“Fucking croissants, Thor, really? How many times, I swear. Why have the gods burdened me with such an idiotic boyfriend!”)_ And Thor would steal closer and shut him down with a kiss, and god that perfect mouth, those elegant hands in Thor’s hair…

“Fuck,” he said out loud, and sighed. He was so, so screwed. But he felt a dopey smile brightening his face, and he didn’t even want to wipe it out. “He’s going to be so much trouble, isn’t he?” he said. But he kept right on smiling. “I guess he already is.”

Sif’s expression was amused.

“I’ll call Pepper,” she said.

Thor felt a delightful heave in his stomach, prickles of excitement under his skin. He had made up his mind, and it felt fanfuckingtastic. He would be keeping count of the seconds until he saw Loki again by the beating of his heart. And if that wasn’t the sappiest thought that had ever crossed his mind, dammit. But so fucking what. Oh, god, he would see Loki again. He’d be with Loki again. He’d have his chance. Even if he had to put a leash on him so that Loki did not take off on him for once, he would have his chance, and this time, he would not waste it.

And in the meantime, he was going to excuse himself to his friend and go splash some cold water on his face, because he had the image of Loki with a collar and a leash seared in his brain now, and damn, why did he always have to buy his jeans so tight.

 

 

***

 

 

“No, nein, niet, non, and never,” said Loki, walking up and down Darcy’s living room. “I’ve managed to get myself out of this now. I’m not fucking risking it again.”

“Very wise,” said Darcy, examining the assortment of nail polish bottles spread out before her, about two dozen shades of red with kooky names.

“Don’t you always tell me I need to be careful where I invest my emotions? That I need to get myself away from my attraction towards toxic relationships?” He gesticulated as he paced. “Well, it doesn’t get more toxic than this. I mean, I have an unhealthy obsession for this man, I think of very little else. How is this healthy? Am I right?”

“Right,” she said, picking up _Tasmanian Devil Made Me Do It_ and _Bastille My Heart_ and comparing them under the light. “Obsessed. It’s unhealthy.”

“And why would he even fucking look at me twice? Why would he look at _anyone_ twice? He’s the perfect man, and god, doesn't he know it. A smug bastard, he is. Like, brimming with self-confidence, the fucking king of the world.”

Pacing, pacing. He was really trying to keep the flare of indignation burning high, but, with the image of Thor's shit-eating grin in his mind, he soon found it dimming down to a nice, warm, cozy flame of something that did not sound - nor feel - like indignation in the least. Which pissed him off. Or should have pissed him off, but he kept getting distracted…

“But not like _everybody is beneath me_ kind of a king," he added, thoughtful. "He’s like… well, he never doubts himself. He knows that everybody loves him. And instead of making him a total asshole, it’s made him self-assured, brave, sort of… kind?” He blinked when he shook himself out of it. “I mean, puh-leese, where’s the fucking catch?”

Darcy shook her head, as in dismay. “He’s a total god.”

“Right? And he has a brain too! He's not even the complete airhead I had him for!" (And dreamy again,) "I mean, it seems like we could even have a conversation whenever we were not fucking. ...Several conversations, even." (Now incensed again,) "It’s fucking infuriating! He fucking has it all!” (Withdrawn now, to himself.) “And yeah, he’s arrogant, but once you get past that, he seems really very sweet… And hell, he makes arrogant look cute anyway.”

Loki stopped and listened to himself. A thorough, longing, defeated sigh. He was disarmed.

“He really seems like a nice guy," he admitted.

“The bastard,” said Darcy without looking, sticking her tongue out as she concentrated on staying on target with the small brush.

“But seriously now, how could it ever work out?” he said. “You know the way I am. How could I keep it together dating a man who fucks other hot men for a living? It’s impossible!”

“Impossible.”

“I mean, he must have had hundreds in his life, thousands!”

A frown, a sudden realisation.

“And out of all of them, he wants _me_ …”

Darcy blew on her nails, turning an assessing eye on Loki now that he was distracted.

“He’d be bored of me in no time, I’m sure,” said Loki, snapping out of it. “Wouldn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” said Darcy, her deep red lips pouting as she blew her nails dry. “Like, he’s already fucked you, what, three times? You can tell he’s getting bored already.”

Loki scowled at her, wounded.

“But he told me he liked the things I did, my writing, my music!” he protested. “And Tony told me he carries my books around with him. That he underlines stuff, and adds notes and exclamation marks.”

“Has he no respect,” she said.

“Why would he bother with my books if all he wanted from me was sex?”

“Sapiosexual? I hear it’s a thing,” she ventured. 

Not that Loki was listening. He had withdrawn into his own thoughts again.

“The way he looked at me when I was fucking him…” he said, absently. “The way he touched my face after he came inside me… The way he held my hand… the way he said my name... He doesn’t do that with any other of his partners, not like that. I mean, I should know, I’ve watched all his fucking films a hundred times by now...”

She was observing him on the sly, the faint shadow of a smile on her lips.

“And there was this moment after the shoot, when we were talking… He looked at me as if he wanted to-to hug me.”

“Pervert,” she said.

He looked up to her, panicky, pre-emptively forlorn.

“When he walks out on me, I’m going to fucking die.”

She shook her hands to speed up the drying.

“But what if… What if he didn’t?” His eyes beseeched her, imploring. “What if he did _not_ walk out on me? What if this time I get to keep him?”

 She held his stare, but didn’t say anything. She did not need to. 

“Oh, please,” murmured Loki, bitterly. “Get real, Laufeyson.”

And then went quiet for a long time, looking very sorry for himself. 

“So I’ll tell Pepper to forget it, then,” said Darcy, as she picked up the phone.

“Wait!” jumped Loki.

She held the phone mid-air.

“I-I do owe Tony a lot,” he mumbled, shifty eyes.

“Yes, you do,” said Darcy.

“And I could use the money. The conditions are great.”

“Yes, they are.”

“It’s just one scene.”

“Yup.”

“I can walk out at any point, it’s not even live or anything.”

“Nope.”

“I’m a big boy. I’m not going to completely lose my shit over one scene.”

“You’re a pro.”

He sighed deeply again, layering it nice and thick, but he could not for the life of him disguise the glint in his eyes.

“I guess I… I should do it. For the studios, right? For Tony.”

“For Tony,” said Darcy, masterfully containing her smirk, as she scrolled down her contacts list, admiring simultaneously her fabulous nails. She could multi-task, alright. Like a boss.

 

 

***

 

 

 

Choreography meeting. Loki was early, and a bag of nerves. He had decked out the halls, formal, curve-hugging suit trousers in a lovely, thin material that had answers to the question “underwear, nay or yay?” (no points for guessing), a tight white shirt (he’d poke someone’s eye out with those nipples), top buttons undone, a silky green and gold scarf thrown artfully around his neck, and a stylish charcoal grey wool cardigan with a thick collar that made him look all cozy and squishy and fluffy, in alpaca or cashmere or yak or something of the sort, soft as baby angel’s wings, begging to be touched. Tony indeed was having trouble keeping his hands off. Then again, whenever did he not.

Poor Loki, though, all skittish, leg jumpy, throwing anxious looks towards the door, broadcasting his terror in waves — what if Thor doesn’t turn up? What if he’s changed his mind? Oh, Loki, sweetheart, he’ll be here, he will. This is true love. No power on heaven or earth can stop him. 

Indeed, when it was still five minutes to the hour, Thor burst into the meeting room like an oceanic wave, with Sif in tow. Loki’s posture tensed up visibly, and Tony could almost hear the beating of his heart, racing. He pretended to be absorbed in the papers in front of him. Which were blank. Perhaps someone should take pity and tell him that.

“Morning, everyone,” said Thor, his voice and his presence filling the room. Then in a softer, warmer tone, “Hey, Loki.”

Loki gulped, still not raising his eyes, adorable pink circles appeared on his cheeks. A whisper,

“Hey."

 

Once the formalities and the preliminaries were out of the way, Tony took the lead, and got straight down to business.

“Alright, then, the scene,” he said. “I’m open to ideas, of course, as always, but if I may. I don’t want anything outlandish. I think you guys are so hot together, and the chemistry between you is so electrifying, you really don’t need to try. And since this is my party, I would like to indulge myself. I’d like to see some of my personal favourites. For example, Thor, how about a good rimming? We all enjoyed the surprise party you threw Loki your first time together. I think we’d all like to see more of that. What do you say?”

Thor cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah, sure. I mean… Yeah, I can totally do that. If-if Loki’s ok with it.”

Loki’s eyes widened when Thor said his name. He shifted in his seat, leg bouncing again. 

“Um, sure,” he said, voice thin. “I’m fine with that. No problem.” A sip of water. 

“Great!” said Tony. “Brilliant! I like this, I like this very much. Now, I must admit I’m a total sucker for Loki’s blow-jobs.”

“God, yeah,” muttered Thor, and he blushed.

Everybody pretended they hadn’t heard anything, but oh, Loki's face. He smiled faintly to himself, in a very fetching combination of demure and smug.

“Loki?” said Tony. “Would that be an option?”

“Absolutely,” said Loki. His voice was deep and torrid when he half-turned to Thor and said, “My pleasure.”

Nobody could have missed the movement of Thor’s Adam’s apple up and down his throat. And was that a fluster creeping up his neck?

“Excellent!” said Tony, clapping hands. “Fantastic. Moving on. Now, I know this is a tricky subject, but hell, I just have to ask. Because you guys are so fucking good at both giving _and_ receiving. I’m a devoted fan of Thor the power bottom. We don’t get to see it as much as it deserves. And Loki, oh, Loki, what can I say… Such a rarity in your career, such a beauty to see you taking it. It would be a great privilege if you guys would do me a flip-fuck for the anniversary. I would be eternally grateful.”

A moment of silence. What was that in the air, tension? Something else, perhaps?

“Thor?" said Tony. "What do you say? Show the fans what they’re missing?”

“Alright, yeah,” said Thor, attempting a casual tone, and failing. Bless him, he really had no guile. 

“Loki?”

Loki took another sip of water. 

“Ok,” he conceded.

“Oh, god, bless you, guys!” said Tony. “What a great day for the studios. Right, so how does this sound. We’re going to do this in the big bed, right here. It’s going to be a bit different from the usual set up. I’d love for it to look like we’re catching a pair of real lovers in a moment of intimacy. So you’d start already in bed, and you’d be naked, or partly dressed. I’d love to see a lot of slow, sensual kissing. How does that sound?”

Nobody talked. Thor’s lips were parted, his expression vacant. Loki’s eyes were lost in space. Were they picturing it already?

“I really loved that sixty-nine,” proceeded Tony, “it was so fucking hot, the way you both made each other completely lose it. So Thor could lie down, and Loki, you could straddle him, and Thor, you eat him out. Take as much time as you like, whatever feels right. Take the cues from Loki. And Loki, in your own time, you suck him.” 

There was very little green left in Loki’s eyes. His breathing was heavy, through his mouth, no wonder his lips were dry. He licked them slowly. 

…And what the fuck was that? Had Thor just seen that and _whimpered_?

Tony tried to contain the smirk. Not that the guys noticed if he smiled or not. This was fun. 

“So when you want to move on to fucking, what do you think, Loki? On all fours or on your back? What would you prefer?”

Loki swallowed, and swallowed again. He was squinting at Tony. He knew when someone was having fun at his expense. Unfortunately for him, he had no voice to complain, did he?

“Or maybe both?” continued Tony. “Keep it organic. I mean, you’re so flexible and so strong, and Thor can really sustain any position you go for. Actually, call me classic, but with you two, I think I’d like doggy. I just love how your shoulders and your clavicles look like that, Loki, and your arms, straining to keep the position as Thor ploughs you from behind. I love to see your ass getting pink with the slapping of Thor’s body, and with his hands fumbling you and maybe, even, giving those buttocks a nice smack or two. And Thor looks so strong, so dominating, in that position. He can really go for it like that, and I know the viewers are creaming themselves thinking how big you are, Thor, and how deep Loki must be feeling it. Not to mention the back shots, you know how amazing your butt and your back look like that. Yes, I definitely vote for doggy.”

The boys were _panting_. Thor winced as he shifted in his seat, discretely trying to do something with the gigantic erection he must be sporting. As for Loki, a bit more comfortable in the more forgiving woollen material, his main problem was the buttons on his very tight shirt, hanging on for dear life as his heavy breathing tested their resistance.

“And then Thor pulls out,” resumed Tony, really getting into it now, gesticulating,  “and the viewers think that’s it, but _no_. Because Loki turns around and lies down, and Thor straddles you and rides you. But this time you have to face each other, guys. I swear, when your eyes connect, you could solve the world’s energy crisis. And I think I speak for everyone here when I say that there was an element of frustration, shall we say, when Loki managed to unseat you that first time, when he was so close. Thor, you could finish him off this time. Loki, what do you think? While you jerk Thor off to completion. How does that sound?"

Tony was much too taken by that lovely flush on Loki’s face and neck, and that sheen of sweat on his forehead, to pay attention to the daggers in his eyes.

“No problem,” said Loki, his voice raw and choked up. “If you’ll excuse me for one second.” 

And he walked out, his gait stiff at the hips, aggressively dressing to the right today.

Tony gave it exactly two minutes.

“Do you need a break as well, Thor?” 

Thor actually smiled at him before he made his way out. And if those jeans had three legs, he would have filled them.

 

_____________

 

 

Loki was splashing water on his face, as cold as it would run, which wasn’t enough. A splash of the Antarctic Ocean wouldn’t be cold enough. He needed a wank. No, he needed to be vigorously fucked against a wall, that’s what he needed. God damn you, Stark. 

The door opened. Oh, Holy Mary and all her saints, he thought, his stomach plunging, it’s Thor. Was that his heart beating, or was it a fucking hydraulic breaker trying to open up a street? And, oh sweet merciful Zeus, Thor was at this very moment burdened with the importune boner to end all importune boners. And he obviously knew there was really nowhere to hide it, so he wasn’t even trying. Loki’s eyes kept dipping for it. His mouth was watering. He looked away, and splashed his face and neck some more. Thor walked to the row of sinks, and did the same.

Boiling cauliflowers. Train stations. Top Gear. Ohio. Old white dude fishing. Monster trucks. Accounting. Baseball. Margaret Bleeding Thatcher. Oh, fuck, what did Loki have to do to put his own hard-on back to sleep?

Wait, Thor was speaking to him.

“What was that?”

“I said, I’m really happy you agreed to do this,” repeated Thor. “I-I really enjoy working with you.”

Loki turned to face him, trying to wrench his eyes from the pull of the electromagnetic field emanating from Thor’s crotch. It was impossible, like being in Paris and trying not to notice the Eiffel Tower. Thor seemed completely untroubled.

“I enjoy working with you too,” said Loki. His eyes are up there, Laufeyson, up _there_.

“Loki, I…” Thor cut himself.

“Yes?” squeaked Loki.

Their eyes met. Loki was going to fucking puke. Thor opened his mouth to say something.

“I... I’m looking forwards to it,” he said, with heaviness. Whatever he had meant to say, he had not succeeded, and he was disappointed. “My mom loved your book, by the way,” he added. “I told her she could not borrow my copy, that she had to have her own. To support the author, you know. But the truth is, I could not lend her mine. I may have underlined my favourite parts.”

Loki the Most Unbecomingly Flattered, Sizzling Puddle on the Tiles had to laugh as he violently flustered. And the look Thor gave him as he did made him feel weak at the knees. It was glowing with warmth and longing and it was aimed indisputably towards _him_. 

“Well, I appreciate that,” said Loki, as he could. “I really did not sell that many.”

“Which is a crying shame.”

Loki shrugged. He really did not give a damn about the book right now.

“Oh, and now that I think about it…” said Thor. “Uh, it’s kind of embarrassing, but anyway, here goes. My brother asked me to get him your autograph. He’s a huge fan. He wants to brag to his college mates.”

Loki laughed again. 

“Sure,” he said. “I don’t have anything on me right now. Shall we do this in the board room?”

“Uh, no, actually, if we could just keep this between us… Wait. “ And he was blushing as he got a notebook and a pen from the back pocket of his jeans, and took a step closer. Their hands brushed when he passed him the pen, and Loki’s heart may have skipped a beat or two. Focus, Laufeyson.

“Um, what name should I…?”

“Balder,” said Thor.

Loki’s eyes snapped up sharp.

“Balder. That’s… your brother? That’s his name? Your brother’s name? Balder?”

Thor seemed puzzled.

“Hm, yeah. It’s a family name. Why?”

Why indeed. Oh, the smile on Loki’s face right now. It did not really change a thing, did it? And yet, for some reason, it felt like it did. At least, Loki was not feeling like he was treading on marshmallows just a minute ago. He jotted something down, still smiling to himself.

“Thanks, he’ll be so happy," said Thor.

“No problem." 

He raised his eyes and saw the way Thor smiled at him, and Loki lost his breath and his bearings. The most beautiful man he had ever seen. Hell, the most beautiful man he could possibly imagine. Having him smile at you was like… like it must feel for a broken toy, forgotten at the bottom of a drawer, after it’s been found by a curious child for whom a pebble is a treasure and a stick a magic wand. Layers and layers of cynicism and disappointment were shedding off Loki under that smile, dissolving under those eyes that broke through all the shit he kept around himself. They found him, cradled him, and made him feel warm. That smile might not be able to mend old forgotten broken toys and magically replace all their missing parts, but it turned them into something rare and precious, something that deserved to be looked after and cared for just the same.

“I’m really looking forwards to this,” said Thor. “Lots.”

“So am I,” said Loki, a whisper of a voice.

A silence, not really uncomfortable, but not perfectly easy yet. They had run out of things to say. They were in a goddamn restroom. Thor still had half a hard-on. It was getting awkward.

“We should probably head back,” said Thor.

“We probably should.”

“Shall we?”

Thor got the door for him and let him go first. They walked side by side down the hallway in companionable silence, like strolling in the park. 

When they took their seats again in the meeting room, Thor smiled at him again.

Loki was reasonably sure the conversation had carried on for another twenty minutes or so, that a date had been set and a few more details agreed on, and it’s even possible that he may have contributed, but he had no recollection of it. He had spent all that time smiling like a lovesick fool, trading warm glances with Thor, feeling a pleasant startle whenever he turned and found him staring back, and his mind had been far, far away, frolicking in a green pasture amidst the wildflowers, surrounded by singing blue birds and trotting unicorns. There may have been double rainbows too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

D-day. A bright, wide space on the top floor, red-brick walls, tall windows, flowing voile curtains to soften the daylight, a huge bed in the middle, white linen, a plant in a corner for a splash of colour, the atmosphere fresh and airy. 

This one would not be live, thank god, and they had the cameras and lighting gear optimally positioned to obtain some top-notch material Tony would be able to cut into something that made the Studios proud. As long as the boys delivered.

Enter Loki. Because they were supposed to start naked on the bed, he wore nothing but a bathrobe. He stood by the window biting his nails, then noticing he was doing it, making himself stop, and after a few seconds, biting again. He was so nervous, he had even forgotten to criticise the set.

Enter Thor.

Loki must have felt the energy in the room alter. He turned.

The boys saw each other across the room, and everything else around them evaporated, time stood still and the world screeched to a stop. One word dropped from Thor’s lips, a breath.

“Loki...”

Loki seem to stagger under some invisible force.

“Thor...” he sighed.

Thor’s eyes fixed and locked, he charged through the set in long, powerful strides, while shedding his robe. Loki went to meet him.

Wait a minute.

“Fuck. Rolling, rolling!” whispered Tony, gesturing madly.

Loki jumped to Thor’s neck, wrapping around him with arms and legs, mouths clashing together, two deep, hungry groans. With one arm solidly holding Loki around his body, the other cupping that perfect, plump ass, and his mouth being plundered for all it had, Thor hummed happily, an expression of pure bliss. All was well in the world at last. He had him.

He carried him to the bed and they both fell together, Thor still firmly gripped tight between Loki’s thighs. Between little gasps, moans and sighs, their lips never more than a breath apart, they got Loki out of his robe. Every now and then, they stopped to look at each other, awestruck, stupefied. 

They were panting, whimpering, whispering too, it was hard to make out what they were saying. Tony had resources, so he availed himself of a headset. He did not catch it all, but he did get the gist. And as far as sex-talk goes, Stark Studios could say it had another first.

“What are you doing on Sunday,” that was Thor.

“Have you got a cat allergy?” that was Loki.

“I know this Lebanese place…”

“Do they wrap everything in vine leaves?”

"How about Mexican?"

Rolling on the bed, kissing, small, desperate whimpers, blissed out hums and groans.

“Baby, don’t go to London. Stay here with me…” Thor again, kissing and nuzzling into the crook of Loki’s neck.

“Don’t fucking say this unless you really fucking mean it,” Loki, eyes closed,  two hands on Thor’s head to hold him there.

“I mean it. Oh, god, I mean it.”

“Oh god, Thor…” A deep, hungry kiss, rolling over, Loki on top.

“Fuck, yeah, say my name..." Loki’s mouth under Thor's jaw, Thor now wrapping his thighs around Loki.

"Ah, Thor... _Thor_..." Thor’s hands kneading Loki's butt as he thrusted his pelvis up.

"Loki, baby…” Rolling on the bed and kissing, kissing like Rhett and Scarlett, wherein Rhett has had to wait two bloody hours of footage and survive a civil war and can’t bloody hold it another second, and Scarlett has just learned what true passion really looks like, and is now eager to crumble under its overwhelming push, for the first time in her life.

Tony felt a nudge into his side. It was Clint, handing him a tissue. Only then did he realize he was crying like a baby. He wiped his eyes and nose, but it kept on coming. Clint traded a look with Nat. They both shook their heads. Sam, meanwhile, noted to himself that this seemed kind of a novel use for a tissue in the set of a porno.

 

 

 

“Loki, Loki…”

Loki closed his eyes blissfully, his man's weight crushing him, overpowering him, grounding him. _His_ _man_. Thor’s mouth was everywhere,  everywhere, wanting to taste and feel and pleasure his every nook and cranny, all his plains and mounds, every ridge and every groove. So greedy, so hungry. Loki’s head was swimming, drunk on Thor’s lust. He giggled. _Oh please don't go, I’ll eat you up, I love you so_...

“What’s so funny?” Thor’s gruff voice right against his skin. Loki felt goosebumps break all over him. He looked into those deep blue eyes. Thor returned the smile, that smile that got to the marrow of Loki's goddamn bones, and then kissed him deeply, closing his eyes. Loki hummed in perfect content. 

“Nothing,” he said, against Thor’s mouth. It was not funny, and he was not amused. He was just fucking happy.

 

 

 

Thor returned to kissing with bruising intensity. He did not even know where to begin putting his hands. He felt like a kid in a candy shop, he wanted everything _now_. He had hungered and yearned like he never had before for anyone else, and now he fucking had him, just there, offering himself, his for the taking, an embarrassment of riches. While Thor kissed here and there, lifting his head every now and then to look once more at what he had, hesitating where to put his mouth next, Loki giggled again, that sound of perfect, delighted, untroubled joy. Thor stared down at his face, his eyes so bright when they looked at each other. 

“Loki…” Thor sighed.

He had opened up and he was giving all he had to Thor, his joy, his hope, and his trust that Thor would not shatter them. What an overpowering sensation, what a fucking honour. If he laughed again like that, Thor would melt…

Floating in that blissful pink cloud of his, Thor just did not see it coming. A vicious yank at his hair, dislodging his mouth. He gasped, a frown of shock and pain. What the fuck? Then nails sinking into his side, a calf wrapped around his leg, and a push from beneath. And _bam_ , he was on his back on the floor, reeling, confused.

What the fuck had just happened, he thought, shaking his head. 

He looked up, a burn in his throat. For a horrifying second, he realised that all his fears about this relationship were right. That Loki was a fucking lunatic, one of those cats who offered their bellies up for a scratch and then suddenly attacked you with claws and fangs and minced you bloody. That this was never going to fucking work.

Loki’s face appeared over the side of the bed. He was smirking, alright, a mischievous, naughty grin. And an inviting, seductive, playful wink.

Ah, Loki, Loki. Thor smirked as well, relief flooding him, and then felt a deep, gasp-inducing punch of lust. So that’s what this is, right? Ok, then, baby, let the games begin.

 

 

 

Loki jumped off the bed and threw himself over Thor. When Thor tried to hug him, he got a warning hiss and nails. Loki held his wrists against the floor over his head. It made Thor pant with anticipation. And then Loki was off, a flurry of activity down Thor’s body, a horny Tasmanian devil on a binge, intent on having his fill of that flesh for every time he had not allowed himself to really taste him before. Thor tried to keep his hands where Loki had put them, with some difficulty, arching against Loki’s mouth when he was giving one stiff nipple a thorough suck, while he rubbed a wetted thumb over the other. Thor's expression was tormented and pretty fucking desperate, with Loki’s body never ceasing to grind and press against what by now surely was a rock-hard erection. 

Loki licked those nipples goodbye and lapped and kissed and nibbled and nuzzled down Thor’s muscled stomach, stopping once to pick up his breath and have a look at what was arguably one of the best fucking bodies in the business (and in the goddamn universe), all laid out for him to plunder and worship and take his pleasure from it. He sighed happily, brushing his cheek down the smooth, smooth side, running his nose and lips down that pronounced hip groove, with Thor squirming, ticklish. He got to the groin and the golden fuzz there, where he buried his nose, accidentally pushing and brushing Thor’s hard cock in the process, making Thor whimper in need. 

Looking up, and waiting until he was sure Thor was looking, he stuck his tongue out to touch the slit of his cock, tasting the pre-come beading there. Then the sharp point of his tongue touched and pushed underneath the head, Thor shuddering and gasping. A feather-light brush of lips up and down the shaft, then nuzzling the balls, just enjoying himself, with Thor’s eyes always on him, half dazed. When he started flicking the frenulum with the hardened tip of his tongue, and pinching it between his lips, Thor seemed to lose his breath. Then Loki captured the head within the hot, strong ring of his lips, sucking, hollowing his cheeks around it. Thor watched with his mouth wide open and a frown of agony as Loki took more and more of him inside, sobbing as he swallowed him in, out, in, out.  A long, guttural groan from Thor, as he threw his head back, losing it now, with Loki burying his nose in his pubes and working his throat around him.

When Loki gave himself a rest, lips around the glans, flicking his tongue, Thor’s hand fell on his head, clawing into his hair hard, pushing him down, demanding _more_. Oh, the sound Loki made, that moan. Thor smirked and put both hands on the sides of Loki’s head, leading him. He pushed up with his hip and Loki moaned again, rolling his hips, dry humping Thor’s leg. For a minute Thor went at it roughly, Loki’s eyes watering, his buttocks clenching as he rutted. Then he cupped Loki’s jaw gently, his cheek, and stopped moving. He looked down on him, blissed out, so fucking in love. Loki spaced out, lost in the glow of Thor’s gaze. 

Suddenly, with a broad, naughty grin, Loki got up and ran. He only turned around to make sure Thor was following. Oh, was he ever. Thor scrambled to his feet, cock flapping, and chased him around the set. Loki dodged him, laughing, two kids at play. Thor managed to grab hold of his wrist, tried to drag him closer. Loki pulled and twisted and couldn’t let go, so he bit him. Thor snatched his hand away, cursing. Loki went a bit pale now. Too far?

Thor turned on his heels and walked away. Loki’s face fell. He had screwed up, hadn’t he? Fuck, fuck, fuck…

Thor was searching by the bed. When he turned back to Loki, eyes intent and fierce, Loki smiled ear to ear. Thor had put on a condom and was lubing up as he walked towards him. Loki was retreating slowly, panting with anticipation, whimpering as Thor stroked himself, that monumental cock dark and hard and hungry, and getting closer.

Loki’s back hit the wall, his breathing so rushed and so anxious, licking his lips. Thor crowded him there. They kissed, leisurely at first, Loki wrapped one leg around him. With still slick hands, Thor reached behind Loki, rubbing fingertips between his buttocks, then pushing two fingers inside. Loki sighed, kissed harder. Thor fingered him with a very intent focus, and Loki's knees started to give, his face unhinged. He wrapped his arms around Thor’s neck, then the other leg. He climbed him, and Thor held him up with one hand and crushed him against the wall, panting, hungered. 

Loki threw his head back, smiling blissfully, eyes droopy. He was dodging Thor’s mouth now, he wove his fingers in Thor’s hair and clawed into his scalp. Thor groaned. He knew what Loki wanted, what this was all about. He pressed him even harder against the wall, held his buttocks open to expose him, and nudged until he found the spot. Then he thrusted up, as he pulled Loki down, hands on his hips. A mutual exhale, sharp and noisy, as Thor’s cock slipped in fast.

They were both still, panting, shuddering, Thor sheathed to the hilt, Loki stretched around him, their foreheads together, a kiss, another. Then Thor looked at him, and Loki looked back, and holding him up, Thor began to slam himself in hard, a metronome pace. Loki’s eyes flinching at every thrust, his moans suffocated as Thor’s push against the wall punched the breath out of his chest. 

“Oh god…” he whimpered, breathy. “Oh yes…”

Thor’s grunts of effort soon became grunts of frustration. He was going faster and faster, frantic, not deep enough, and not hard enough, not what he wanted. With Loki still in his arms and still impaled on him, he walked them both to the bed, and dropped him there unceremoniously, Loki sprawling like a ragdoll. Thor’s feet planted on the floor, he manoeuvred Loki, flipped him, and put him in position, on his hands and knees. The manhandling had Loki gasping with arousal.

Hands on hips, he pulled Loki down to meet his cock, shoved it in hard. Loki sobbed, eyes closed, mouth open, head dropping to his chest. A few deep, forceful thrusts that had Loki shuddering and cursing, his back arched and tense. Thor established a rhythm, strong and relentless, the slap of flesh, Thor’s grunts, Loki’s gasps turning into moans.

Thor smacked his butt. 

Loki gasped. “Oh my ffff…” 

Somebody was definitely listening at the choreography meeting.

 _Slap_.

Loki’s arms failing him, a hiss. A blush of pink on his buttocks.

Slap!

“Ah, fuuuuuck… _Hmmmh_ …”

Thor seemed almost possessed. He half climbed on the bed, grabbed Loki’s shoulder and one arm, leaving only one arm for Loki to support himself, and rutted with a sinuous hip move that touched all of Loki’s buttons. Loki was begging, cursing, his expression dazed when Thor roughly grabbed his hair, to make him turn his face so that he could kiss him.

Thor was getting exhausted. He slowed down, panting hard, the claw on Loki’s hair now petting. Loki was trying to recover his breath as well, his expression drowsy and blissful. 

Thor pulled out and Loki rolled over. He sat up and reached for Thor. Still panting, Thor straddled Loki’s lap, and while Loki held his buttocks apart, Thor took his cock in. Their foreheads together again, smiling, kissing, with Loki all the way inside. Then that workhorse of a man started to move again, rolling his hips first, sensual, beautiful, eyes heavy with pleasure, and now it was Loki who did not know where to look, so much to see, stomach muscles bulging, powerful thighs strained, thick, outrageously strong arms tensing, neck and pecs and that fucking cock of his, rubbing and flapping and slapping between them. 

Loki fell back, planted his feet on the bed, and started to fuck up. Thor stopped rolling and began to fuck down. Every impact made them both oomph. 

“Oh Thor… god, Thor…” moaned Loki.

“Fuck, say my name…” panting, sweating, fucking himself silly, such stamina, what an athlete. They tangled their hands. “Say my name, baby…”

“Oh my fucking god!” Loki fucking up, desperate. “Thor! Thor!”

“Fuck yes… fuck yes… God, Loki, Loki… Oh, Loki, baby… I want you to meet my parents…”

“Oh my fuuuuck…” moaned Loki, who apparently got off on that.

“Mom will adore you…” Bouncing, bouncing.

“Oh baby, yes, yes… God don’t stop it… Oh god, Thor… What about your dad?”

“Right there, oh my god, right _there_ … My dad does what my… oh, _goood_ … what my mom tells him…”

He was riding him fast now, eyes fixed on Loki, maintaining that punishing rhythm. Loki wrapped his fist around Thor’s cock and jerked him off, their other hand still tangled. Loki seized up, and there was a long, long moan, and without stopping, Thor let himself go and started to come as well, pulsing spunk around Loki’s fist. 

He slowed down, but he did not stop snaking his hips as Loki ground upwards into him, to milk both their orgasms, until they were spent.

They stood there, still, chests heaving, Thor still sitting on Loki’s cock, Loki looking up, transported. Then Loki laughed, and Thor laughed, and he leaned over to kiss him, panting hard.

They laid down on their sides, smiling hazily, and got lost in each other’s eyes.

“Hey,” said Thor, a warm murmur.

“Hey,” said Loki.

They hugged tight, tangling arms and legs, with a sigh.

 

It did not even register with them the moment when the filming crew abandoned the set. They had forgotten they existed more than an hour ago, and never once remembered about them, as the poor kids scrambled around with the cameras while they ran around the room, completely oblivious of anything but their game.

 

__________

 

 

“Alright, hon?” said Tony poking his nose in the control room, coat and scarf on, ready to leave for the day.

Clint snapped out of his doze.

“Hm, yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes. He was surrounded by empty cups of coffee and shiny wrappings of an array of snacks and candy bars.

“No news?” said Tony. “Still at it?”

Clint pushed a random key, the monitor came off its sleep, and… Yup, here they still were, humping like rabbits. 

Not all the cameras in the set had been turned off when the crew packed it in, quietly, under Tony’s orders. This one didn’t offer a particularly well-framed shot, and the angle was pretty extreme, but that was fine, since Tony did not really intend to use that footage. Except perhaps for private use, if the boys gave him permission.

“They’ll be alright, won’t they? Not overdoing it?” said Tony, half to himself. “Well, I guess they did have that nap. And the lunch break.”

“Really nice of you to get them that three course meal and that bottle of champagne,” noted Clint. “I did not know that _Per se_ delivered.”

“They don’t. But the boss is a friend.”

“Well, they cleaned the plates. Actually, mostly they did not use them.”

“Don’t tell me.”

“No?”

“Nah, I want it to be a surprise when I watch it later.” He gave Clint a nice pat on the back. “Who’s turn is it next?”

“Sam. He should be here in half an hour.”

“Make sure they get them a pizza and some ice cream or something for dinner. Something energetic.”

“You’re the boss.”

“Fine. Well, I’m off. Give my best to Nat.”

“Sure, boss.”

Tony took one last peek at the monitor, where his boys were still going at it like the world was ending tomorrow. He sighed with content and the satisfaction of a job well done.`

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, 6 chapters. The story is finished, but there shall be a little epilogue, because there are a couple of loose ends and I want to know what happens next. Nothing earth-shattering. Expect fluff.
> 
> I'm disappointed about how much I did not manage to make the smut on this one humorous at all. It just would not happen. I wanted to. I was failing, so I stopped trying. I humbly apologise, because I think it would have been cool. Oh well. I hope you enjoyed this fuck anyway. 
> 
> Oh, by the way. When Tony is trying to coax the truth about his feelings for Loki out of Thor, he quotes at him a song by Bob Marley, "Is this love." Just in case you found the reference to "Jah" confusing.
> 
> And the names of Darcy's nail polishes are real, from a real brand. I looked up some for inspiration and I could not come up with anything better than that, sorry.
> 
> "Oh please, don't go! We'll eat you up, we love you so," that's from Where the Wild Things Are, a picture book by Maurice Sendak.
> 
> 'Per se' is a luxury restaurant in NY


	6. A kind of truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! 
> 
> It was supposed to come out at some point during the Christmas period, but it fought me so hard. Anyway, it's done now. I'm glad of how it came out. 
> 
> Warnings for fluff, abundant, unrepentant, proud, tooth-rotting fluff. This being almost a crack fic, I felt entirely entitled to pour love and happiness on my babies without shame. 
> 
> Thanks for coming along on this ride, it's been a lot of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL HAIL THORCTOPUS, beta extraordinaire, going above and beyond the call of duty to make this last chapter happen!
> 
> She didn't just find the bad English, corrected grammar, spelling, typos, and the rest (whatever remains, you betcha I've put in there). She also took me by the hand, and pulled me and even dragged me along when I was struggling, made the best suggestions, and asked the cleverest questions to make this better.
> 
> No, you don't get it: she read through half-assed preliminary drafts, THEN read the subsequent drafts, and finally, she read the last draft too, (and that's a lot of drafts), and never once failed to make me feel anything but encouraged, supported, accompanied, and overall like I was doing fine. You have no idea what a heaven-sent she is. 
> 
> Also if you're getting ideas, she's mine, you can't have her, find your own (good luck with that)

Loki stormed into the editing room, dropped his coat with a flourish on an unoccupied chair, and planted his butt on the worktop, right by Tony’s elbow. He proceeded to cross his arms petulantly and look like thunder. Tony assessed him out of the corner of an eye, and gave him a moment to stew in it before asking what was wrong. When it comes to spoiled children, better not make them worse by paying them too much attention straight away. He replayed the segment he had been working on (an abrupt burst of manly lustful moans and heavy breathing rang inside the room), to adjust the timeline.

But Loki was very stubborn, and perfectly capable of keeping his silence till hell froze over, so eventually Tony did prompt him,

“Yes?”

“Fuck my entire fucking life,” was Loki’s enigmatic answer.

Tony click-click-clicked, replayed again (Loki’s voice, in the film, “ _-uck Thor… oh fuck right th-_ …”)

“Can you specify?” said Tony. “Bit of context, even?” 

“Why, why, _why_ must people go around grilling people about their private lives?” said Loki. “I mean, do I get in your face demanding to know why you and Pepper are not getting married, or having babies, or adopting them, or why don’t you get a fucking dog? Do I?”

(Loki’s voice: “ _-o owns you, pet?_ ” — Thor’s voice: “ _Ahhh… Fuck. You do. Fuck, fuuu-..._ ”)

“You _never_ ask me anything about my life, indeed,” granted Tony.

“Because it’s not fucking polite!” snarled Loki. “Like, how do people _know_ they’re not bringing up a sensitive issue? Like, how do I know that you guys have not been trying for a baby for several hundred years, and that your heart breaks whenever the subject comes up? Or that you _did_ have a dog, but it was kidnapped by terrorists and sent back to you one leg per hour, and you’re still trying to get over the trauma? Why do people just assume that personal fucking questions are ok, for god’s sake!”

Tony stared at him with a frown that expressed his complete bafflement.

“Loki, sweetheart, you’ll have to try and narrow it down for me.”

“It’s Thor! Whenever he hears the word ‘wedding’, you can actually see the tears in his eyes from the emotional equivalent of having a baseball bat shoved up his ass!”

Still frowning.

“Pardon me?”

“And I wasn’t even the one who brought it up, they did!” continued Loki.

“They? Who they?”

“Steve, Bucky, Peggy, and Sam, the four fucking trolls of the polypocalypse!”

“Bring up what, sorry?”

“Weddings! Aren’t you listening?”

(Thor’s voice: “ _-eel so good… You’re making me hard again… God, fuuuuck… Ah, baby, fuck me, harder, har…_ ”)

Loki turned to the screen.

“You’re not using that shot, are you?” he said.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh my fucking god, what’s wrong? What’s _wrong_? It looks like I have two chins!”

“No it doesn’t.”

Loki glowered, menacing.

“Don’t fucking dare use this angle or I swear to god…”

“Oh, come on!” protested Tony. “It’s incredibly hot! Your eyes are white and you’re all flustered and-…”

“I’m calling Darcy.”

“Fine, fine, fine, I won’t use this shot,” sighed Tony.

“What was I saying.”

“Something about the troll apocalypse. Is it the new thing? Like the Zombie Apocalypse, Scandinavian edition? I’m not sure I followed anyway.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, as if _he_ was the one who needed some unnamed deity to grant him patience. “Ok, so. I was saying that people lately just keep asking us… I mean, all people, _everybody_ does, it’s like there’s a conspiracy, I swear, an epidemic. And only over a year ago, Thor didn’t even _want_ a boyfriend, he was very happily single, and god knows why he started this with me, but people just _can’t_ leave it alone, can they?, and they’re all pressing him and pressing him, and…” He huffed, rubbing circles on his temples. “He’s going to break up with me, I just know he is.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow, as he studied poor brick-shitting Loki. He saved the work and pushed his chair back.

“Alright, from the top,” he said. “What the fuck are you on about.”

Loki took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts, and began his recount.

“Ok. So. For example. One out of a dozen, at least. The other night we went out with Steve, Bucky, Peggy, and Sam on a… I was going to say a double-date. Whatever, you catch my drift. We went out with the Brady Polybunch for dinner. For a moment I feared they were going to ask us to join the fucking free love cult they have going, but thank Gaia or the Moon Goddess or whatever, not this time. Anyway, they’re having this communal bonding ceremony in spring, and they asked us to attend and be testimonies.

“Oh, yeah, they asked Pepper and me too.”

“Congratulations. So anyway, they _had_ to ask, right?,” Loki raised his voice to a higher, mocking pitch, with a saccharine tilt, “ _‘and what about you, guys? Are you going to tie the knot?_ ’ And you should have seen Thor, he turned several shades of ash, got tense as a spring, and for the rest of the evening he kept throwing me looks, like… Jesus! I didn’t even say anything! I mean, I know it’s not the easiest thing to go from _free as an extremely promiscuous bird_ to _arguably monogamous_ , ok? Like, he hadn’t had a boyfriend since he was twenty because he simply couldn’t be bothered with the hassle. I know he has some issues with commitment, and I know I’m Mr. Clingy McNeedypants, and… oh, my god, he’s so going to dump my ass.”

“So what do _you_ do when people talk about you guys getting married?”

“My butt tightens right up, thank you for asking. I may hyperventilate a little.”

“Why?”

“Why? _Why_? Am I talking fucking Klingon here?” 

“My Loki-ese is a bit rusty these days, apologies,” shrugged Tony, probably risking a punch in the nose.

Loki _huarghed_. Then _ughed_. 

“I don’t _need_ papers, I don’t _need_ a ring, I don’t _need_ a dog and a house in the suburbs! Can’t people just leave it alone? I’m-I’m fine the way things are.”

“Are you _really_ , Mr. Clingy McNeedypants?” challenged Tony.

“Yes I fucking _am_ ,” replied Loki, indignant. “I’ve done a bazillion hours of therapy this year. I have a good grip on my neuroses. And ever since we moved in together in May, things got so much better. I’m not staying up all night in fear that I’ll wake up in the morning and he’ll be gone or anything. I’m _not_ ,” he glowered at Tony’s eyebrow. “Am not!” he insisted. And in a smaller voice, “Anymore. …Much. Hardly ever at all, actually.” Loki sighed miserably. “Listen, what I want, what I really fucking want, is not to scare him off, ok? I don’t want him to feel constricted or limited or tied down or…”

“But darling, you’re doing so well with that,” said Tony. “I mean, personally, for a while I wasn’t altogether sure about whether Thor would even carry on with his career in this great business of ours, what with your insecurities and all that…” (Yes, he noticed that glower, so he pushed right on, hoping Loki would forget about being offended.) “And only a few weeks after you got together, ta-da!, here he was, back in the saddle, and your relationship still going strong! I was so proud of you, Mr. McNeedypants of Jealous-shire.”

Loki glared at him through a narrow, hostile squint. Tony gulped. 

“That was a matter of survival,” said Loki, after a moment — pensive now, not so squinty anymore. “After a month or two, I realised my body couldn’t physically cope with Thor’s sexual appetite all by its little self. Three times a day is enough for me, usually. So his job came in handy. But anyway, it’s not all about sex, is it?” His voice and demeanour turned small again. “I know I can be a handful, and that I suck up a lot of emotional energy. And he never even wanted to look after anyone like that in the first place. I’m sure he’s stretched pretty thin as it is. And if people keep pressing him on the subject, and he starts to believe that I need it too… Goddammit, Tony, his eye fucking twitches whenever the subject pops up.”

Tony patted his thigh, reassuring.

“Thor is fine. He is. I swear.”

Loki squinted suspiciously again.

“What do _you_ know?”

Tony shrugged. 

“I just know you guys are alright.”

Loki kept right on squinting. Tony’s butt got shifty in his seat. That squint was really squinty.

“Don’t you want to get married one day?” asked Tony, trying to distract attention.

Loki shrugged and mumbled “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” said Tony. “Is that true?”

Loki bit a fingernail, looking busted.

“What I don’t want,” he sighed tiredly, as if he had explained this ten times already, “is to see him run away in a panic, before this even begins to get remotely close to becoming a potential possibility that might happen one day.” Rubbing the tip of his boot on the carpet. “I don’t want to be greedy. I know I’ve won the lottery. I just… I have this chip on my shoulder all the time, that there’s been a mistake somewhere along the line, that I was never supposed to have any of this happening to me, and that The Powers That Be will find out any time soon, and it will all get taken away and given to whoever it was that actually deserved it.” Loki turned a pair of pleading eyes at him that would get even the scruffiest, mangiest, most flee-infestedest puppy adopted.

“You silly sausage,” said Tony, shaking his head slowly in dismay. “Don’t you know that Thor goes around saying the exact same things about you? That he doesn’t know how he got so lucky, that you deserve nothing short than an actual real-life prince, as in, someone who has a palace, some _proper_ Crown Jewels, and a Chancellor of the Exchequer? That he didn’t know what he’s done to deserve you, et cetera et cetera et cetera, and then some more cetera?” He huffed. “If you ask me, you should put a fricking ring on it, and be done with it already. For my sake, if nobody else’s. It’s doing my head in.”

Loki’s expression had suddenly taken a hazy, soft quality.

“Does he really say that?” he asked.

“Constantly,” sighed Tony. “And I mean _constantly_. As in, haven’t you noticed how much ass he’s eating and all the head he’s giving in his scenes lately? Only way to shut him down! And the retakes I’ve had to do because he’s calling out your name, god help me!”

Loki’s eyes sparkled.

“He calls out my name?”

“Yes, my dear, he very much does. Want to see the outtakes? I’m saving them for your silver anniversary.”

Loki’s eyes got lost in space, and he went quiet, that wisp of a smile. After a second, Tony grinned too. He just had to, look at that face. I bet you guys didn’t imagine that Loki Laufeyson, the Ice Princess, could look so… _anime_.

“He’s taking you to meet his mom and dad for Christmas, isn’t he?” asked Tony. “That doesn’t sound like anybody is doing any ass-dumping anytime soon…”

Loki shrugged.

“It’s sort of… obligatory?” he said, biting the nail of his right pinkie raw. “His mom has been asking for months. I can’t keep putting it back without it looking as if I don’t want to meet them. They’ll be offended.”

“I thought you were desperate to meet them. Like, _moaning_ _with_ _desire_ at the suggestion. The weirdest form of sex-talk I ever did hear, and I’ve heard some things…”

Loki threw him a dismissive glare. Then he turned all little again.

“Well, when it came to the real thing, it got a bit scary. I mean, have you even seen that family? They look like a cut-out from _Homes and Gardens_ , they’re _that_ perfect. He’s a captain of industry, self-made man, ridiculously successful; she has her own textile design company, and some of her tapestries are in actual museums around the world; they’ve been happily married for thirty years or something silly; you have met the genetically superior offspring they produce; and I… well, look at me…”

“I’m looking,” smiled Tony sweetly.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Not really. Listen, sweetie-pie, they’re good people, I know them. All they want is for Thor to be happy, and you make him happy. Under your prickly exterior, you’re actually quite adorable, and they will love you. Why shouldn’t they?”

Loki was worrying at the hem of his shirt.

“I’m a fucking train-wreck,” he mumbled, pink with embarrassment and disappointment in himself. “I was going to pack our bags yesterday, and pick an outfit for myself, for Christmas day. You know, get some things done. Sounds easy, right? Fast forward to six hours later, when Thor walks into the apartment and finds me sobbing on a pile of torn-up clothes, shoes all over the fucking place, and don’t ask what happened to the toiletries… Or the carpet.” He sighed heavily, his voice thick. “I struggled to decide what to wear, you see? First impressions are important, and I… Goddammit, I can’t even fucking pack a bag without losing my rag completely. How are they ever going to think I’m good enough for him? …Why does he even put up with me, why…?”

Tony very nearly petted his head. He gave him a friendly poke on the side instead.

“What did Thor do?”

Loki kept worrying at the hem of his sweater. He spoke in a tiny voice, eyes low.

“Picked me up, ran a bath, tidied everything up while I was soaking, rescued what could be salvaged, put aside what could be mended, and got rid of the rest. Then he swaddled me in a towel, and cuddled with me on the couch. Fed me cookies and milk, kissed me a lot, carried me to bed, there may have been a spot of sixty-nineing. And then he snored merrily into the night, while I stayed awake and wondered what have I done to deserve him.”

“Sounds to me like he does a bit more than just putting up with you,” said Tony, trying not to “aww”.

Loki’s expression had softened up an awful lot, thinking about his caring, devoted, endlessly patient boyfriend.

“He’s very good to me,” he admitted.

“He adores you. He thinks that sunshine comes out of your ass. And considering how often and how deep he’s been in there, he might be onto something.” He patted that shapely thigh once more. “Don’t think about it too much. I’m sure things will work out in the end. What Tony Stark has joined, good luck trying to tear it asunder…”

Tony returned to the editing table, before Loki could protest again. The screen showed Loki and Thor engaged in a vigorous, quite athletic exercise of penetrative sex. Loki’s eyes glazed when they set on his beloved’s… could be his face, could be anything else, it was pretty much all there.

“I enjoyed this part,” mused Loki, dreamy.

“So did I,” sighed Tony. 

Loki snapped out of it. He stood up and started to layer up (coat, gloves, scarf, that cute oversized beret) to walk out into the cutting chill of the Manhattan streets in late December.

“The moment I walk out that door you’re going to put that double-chin shot right back in, aren’t you?” he said, without acrimony.

“It’s so beautiful,” said Tony, apologetically. “You look transported.” To next Tuesday, with Thor riding the Cock O’Clock Express, he kept to himself.

“I was,” smiled Loki.

Tony took in that grin. Loki smiled so much nowadays. Gone was the permanent scowl, the twist of derision always set in his lip, the constant resting Princess-Bitch face (mostly).

“Merry Christmas, Toto,” said Loki, leaving a kiss on top of Tony’s head before he left.

Tony grinned from ear to ear at the old nickname.

“You too, Lolo. And give my love to your man as well. And his charming family.”

Loki winked at him, the sexy fucker, and left.

 

 

Ok, then, back to work. This had to come out tomorrow, Christmas day. Tony replayed the last segment. He would be tweaking it until the very last minute; he couldn’t help himself. 

Ah, he had come to love this time of the year. Among those who celebrate the holidays, there are some who hang stockings on the mantelpiece, and leave some sherry and cookies for Santa, and a carrot for Rudolph; some set up a Nativity scene; others make a candle circle, gather around a wreath, and burn a Yule log, perhaps while chanting. But at Stark Studios, they make up a round bed with red silk linens, light it up nicely, set up a few cameras, and ask their favourite toys to unwrap themselves and come to play. With each other. Naked. For money. 

It very nearly didn’t happen this year. When Tony had first approached them about it, they had turned him down. Oh no, they said, we’re done with polls and competitions and online voting. Tony rushed to specify there was not going to be any vote — he wanted _them_. The fans are thirsty to see you together again, he told them, and now that you’re a real couple, more than ever. Extra-spicy, you see, to see two porn gods who are actually in love with each other going at it. It’s our anniversary, they said, we’ve shared enough of our relationship with the world, we want to celebrate in private (true, that: their first kiss, their first fuck, their entire courtship… they had fallen in love live on the internet!). No problem, Tony had quickly replied, it doesn’t have to be live; let’s shoot it a few days earlier, and run it on Christmas Day. Oh, come on, boys, do it for the studios. For me? Pretty please, with a cherry-flavoured condom on the top?

Bless them, they agreed. The looks they threw at each other while signing the contract, mischievous and hungry. So, it seemed they were approaching this scene as a kind of game to spice up their routine - god, yes.

With a couple who had been shagging each other’s brains out for a year, a choreography meeting to ensure things would run smoothly didn’t seem overly necessary. It’s risky, said Pepper. I love surprises, said Tony. It wasn’t live anyway, there was room for error. He did ask Thor, for technical reasons, if they had a plan at all. Loki does, said Thor, but he’s not telling. Oh, interesting. 

Loki was under pressure, that’s for sure. He had been away from the cameras since that last scene with Thor — too busy being disgustingly happy, being screwed out of his mind, going to therapy and couples counselling, and working on a new novel, a new volume of poetry, and his band. The thirst to see him in action again flooded the Studios’ inboxes. Loki being the way he was, Tony had made a point of saying there was expectation, but not making too big a deal of it. He didn’t need Loki feeling any more pressured than he was already. Because Thor had been working as much as usual, reasserting his rule over the Online Gay Porn Kingdom, and his latest scene, with the precious newbie Bucky Barnes, had almost taken down their servers. So there was that. Some called Bucky the new Loki, so there was that as well. _Ouch_. As much as Loki and Bucky liked each other in real life, this had to be making Loki very, very nervous. Last but not least, Loki was competing with himself: remember his last few scenes? Try to top _that_! And it was no use trying to conjure up the ghost of hate-sex past, when they couldn’t so much as look at each other without a circle of little harp-plucking cupids popping up, and fluttering around their heads singing romantic power ballads. So, Loki would have to think of something that would be at least on a par with his own previous work, and reclaim his place as the only consort truly worthy of sharing the throne with King Thor. Tony hoped that so many expectations would not be ending up in the need to resort to, say, Viagra.

He remembered with a snicker how fidgety Loki looked on the day of the shoot. He had quickly fallen back into his old snarky ways.

“What’s the set supposed to be? Santa’s Workshop?” he grumbled.

The deco this time was of the old-timey Coke ad style, and the place was kind of busy. There was an array of furniture scattered around: three armchairs of different types, a table, a bench, an ottoman, a fainting couch, a divan, even a drinks bar, sans drinks, a good pile four inches thick of rugs on the floor, and last but not least, the round bed with red silk linens. 

“Well,” shrugged Tony, “since I still haven’t a clue what you guys intend to do, I figured I’d just provide you with, uh, options.”

Loki felt the cushioning of the nearest armchair with a decidedly upturned nose.

“I won’t be touching this one, that’s for sure,” he said.

“Why not?” It was cushy and soft, and the angle of the backrest made Tony think of bracing comfortably against it while, say, somebody gets eaten out?

Loki turned to him as if Tony was completely stupid.

“You’re trying to kill us or something? If there is any sort of friction on this type of material, we could both be fucking electrocuted by the static,” he said.

Speaking of static. When Thor had entered the set, and his gaze met Loki’s, Tony could swear that everyone in the room had felt it, his own hair standing on end. 

“Odinson,” saluted Loki, his carriage lofty and proud, the hint of an arrogant smirk dancing on his sexy crooked mouth.

“Laufeyson,” said Thor, with a hot, heavy once over, about as intense as if he had physically run his hands all over him. “Somebody is out to impress,” he noted.

Tony had thought that too. He was guessing Loki had gone for a facial, professional hairdressing, a very classy manicure, and he was waiting for visual confirmation, but he wagered full-body exfoliation, and perhaps a bit of downstairs topiary? He had picked a pair of leather trousers and a jade green silk shirt, open at the neck, and he looked absolutely dazzling.

“I see you’ve opted for a _natural_ look,” said Loki, with understated sarcasm. Thor wore jeans and a plain black cotton t-shirt, his hair up in a bun, unshaven. “And why not, indeed. After all, even without trying, you don’t look one day above thirty.”

“I’m twenty-eight, asshole,” replied Thor, not really angry. And Loki was twenty-six, and didn’t he like to remind Thor about it. 

“At least you have your health,” jabbed Loki.

Thor snorted, smiling in spite of himself.

“Well, this old man can still give you a run for your money.”

“Oh, but it’s been such a long time for me, I’m afraid I’m a bit rusty. I know that, with the extremely qualified professionals you usually work with, this job is easy, but I’m kind of an amateur, you see, and-…”

“Easy?” scoffed Thor. “Sweetheart, I make it look easy. I can make the most vanilla amateur look like a sex good. Don’t be nervous, darling, I have some oil for that rust. I’ll give those cobwebs in your butt a thorough sweeping.”

Loki was grinning frankly now.

“Shall we then?” he said.

“Oh, we shall.”

Time for their stretching and warming up exercises. Loki turned his back on Thor, and folded himself in half, leather taut over his perfect butt. He looked at his boyfriend from around his ankles, and winked. Thor was smiling from ear to ear as he shook his head. While Thor rotated his shoulders and warmed up his quadriceps, Loki busied himself performing feats of astounding, pretty suggestive flexibility, and naughty acrobatics (the small audience at one end of the room, gathered behind an actual red rope they had borrowed from the club two streets down, were ooh-ing, ahh-ing, and clapping). Thor retaliated simply by throwing his arms behind his head (his biceps bulged outrageously, there were muted gasps from the audience), and arching his back, which made his butt clench and his crotch push forward. And there was a lot of crotch, and seemingly, never enough denim… Loki, butt on the floor, legs spread right open, visibly gulped. And Tony, excited as a little boy on Christmas Eve (which he sort of was, or thereabouts), couldn’t contain the naughty smirk and the tiny jumps of excitement. His boys were in shape, and this was going to be fun.

They took positions, standing proud, face to face, eyes trained on each other, two boxers knocking gloves. Tony called the countdown, while Thor did a last minute _readjustment,_ and Loki some masticating warm-up motions with his jaw — the porn equivalent of cracking their knuckles. Tony gave the signal.

“Hello, I’m Loki Laufeyson,” announced that voice - warm honey, toasted coffee beans, spicy chocolate - his eyes never leaving Thor’s.

“And you all know who I am,” said Thor, that shit-eating smirk that was both infuriatingly slappable and absolutely irresistible.

Loki arched an eyebrow in realisation. Oh, so he intended to play it like that?

“And we’re going to _fuck_ ,” said Loki, that inflection in his voice making Thor’s arm and neck cover up in goosebumps.

“Happy Christmas,” said Thor, gravelly, his stare hot and heavy as warm caramel.

That smile of excitement and anticipation on both their faces, what a thing of beauty. Thor reached up, grabbed a handful of Loki’s hair and cupped his jaw. He drew him close, and here comes the kiss. Deep, hungry, greedy, wet, and messy, and enthusiastically reciprocated, with Loki’s claws digging in his boyfriend’s hair as he whimpered, a little _oof_ when Thor grabbed his ass and pulled him close, lifting him off the ground, fingers digging into flesh; Loki wrapped his legs around his waist, and they devoured each other’s mouths with a passion that was completely spontaneous, totally genuine, and a joy to behold. 

Thor’s lips dragged along his boyfriend’s sharp jaw to his neck. He was mumbling something, but Loki’s own desperate, huffy breathing was covering it. Sharon the sound girl moved in, and Tony paid attention… Something something “begging”, something something “dare you”, something something… “ _laundry_ ”?

Loki laughed all of a sudden, such a fresh, bright sound. With joy and abandon, he gave his boyfriend’s butt a vicious pinch.

“Ow!” Thor let go of him for a second, and there we go, Loki was free and on the run. “You little…”

For a few minutes, it was quite chaotic. The boys chased each other around the set, jumping over furniture, toppling the Christmas tree and a couple of chairs, while Coulson and Pietro tried to keep up, and the guys with static cameras did their best to keep them in frame, spinning on the spot, like the rotating artillery posts on the Millennium Falcon. Clint at control looked as if, had he six hands, he would be facepalming in despair with each and every one of them.

“Why didn’t I take that job with the National Geographic…” Tony heard Coulson mumbling as he ran past. “I’m too old for this crap…”

Well, here’s an idea, thought Tony. Maybe David Attenborough was free to do the voiceover on this, narrating the mating ritual of the North American _Homo Pornographicus_. 

“Goddammit, Loki!” cursed Thor. He grabbed his boyfriend’s wrist and tripped him. They both tumbled on the rug, panting and laughing. Thor had him pinned down with arms and legs.

“What now, eh?” he taunted, rubbing their crotches together.

Loki was squirming and twisting, but it wasn’t so much to get free as it was to drive his man completely mad with lust. Thor was straining very badly in his jeans. 

“Behave, or else,” he muttered gruffly, as he grabbed Loki’s wrists with just one hand, so that he could deal with his own zip and pull his cock out with the other. 

Loki’s eyes widened, mesmerised by his boyfriend’s dick staring him in the eye.

“Fuck…” he growled, huffy. “Give it to me…”

Thor climbed up his body, sat on his chest. Loki had the use of arms and legs now. He slipped his hands under Thor’s jeans to help them down, exposing his butt, and pulled him closer, until he was able to take his cock in his mouth. 

“Hmmm…” Thor threw his head back, eyes shut blissfully. He began to thrust gently, with Loki hollowing his cheeks around the head and shaft. “Oh mother of ffff… Ah, baby… God, yes, god…”

Loki sucked a finger and reached behind Thor, circling his ass, and tracing the crack from ballsack to tailbone, teasing, as he flicked his tongue under the glans. Thor grabbed his wrist and guided his hand.

“Yes, baby, do it, come on…” And he groaned, low and husky, when he felt him slip inside. He gazed down at Loki with adoration, rocking his hips between Loki’s mouth and his fingers. He was a ruin. He reached behind himself, arching backwards, feeling for Loki’s crotch. What a lovely, lovely frieze they made. Loki groaned around his boyfriend’s cock when Thor’s hand found his flies, deftly undid a couple of buttons, and slipped inside his pants. Tony gasped when he saw that delicious bit of fuzz poking from the V of Loki’s half-undone leather trousers. Tony had only ever seen him clean shaved, but there it was, _golden_ fuzz — his ginger baby! Did Thor prefer him _au naturel,_ then? Oh, be still Tony’s heart! What a treat!

Thor slipped down Loki’s body, kissing everything in sight, probably with the intention of helping him out of his pants. Never happened. The moment Loki had some room, he scrambled up onto his feet and fled.

“Goddammit, baby,” cursed Thor, cock hard and leaking. “I’m going to make you beg for it now.”

“I don’t beg,” said Loki.

The jeans halfway down Thor’s butt were a hindrance. He slipped and hopped out of them on the run, hard and flappy. They were now circling a table, cautiously studying each other as two big cats before a fight, eyes locked, flustered and disheveled. 

“Come on, take the bet. If I lose, I’m doing laundry for a whole month,” said Thor.

Given the fact that in that house they went through a full set of linens a day, plus the bath towels _and_ the kitchen towels whenever they got frisky first thing in the morning while waiting for the toasts to pop up (which Tony knew was a usual occurrence), that must amount to a metric fuckton of laundry per month. Shit was getting serious.

“Since I already do the laundry,” said Loki, “what do you get?”

“The sweet satisfaction of victory, and hearing you beg me to let you come.”

Thor was fed up of the cat and mouse around the table. He shoved the furniture to one side, muscles bulging. Loki made a strangled sound — he had a thing for his boyfriend’s sheer physical power. He let Thor crowd him against a wall and stare him down. He reached blindly to one side, his hand found some tinsel, currently framing a picture. He pulled it away, and wrapped the tinsel around Thor’s neck. He drew him close, went for his ear. Nibbling at his earlobe, he purred.

“I don’t beg…” He sucked Thor’s earlobe between his lips, and Thor’s mind went somewhere far away for a moment. Meanwhile, Loki dragged the tinsel down his boyfriend’s back, around the crooks of his elbows, around his arms… And it was only when Loki pushed him away, that Thor realised he was _bound_. In tinsel. Like a fucking Christmas tree, blue baubles and all, after all that fucking teasing. All that was missing was a string of lights and an angel on his head. He wriggled and strained against his ties, but they dug in his flesh painfully and didn’t give. How the fuck had Loki done it?

“I don’t beg, but you will,” said Loki, and with a strong shove, he sent Thor stumbling back, and falling heavily on a cushioned armchair. “And how.”

Loki stalked closer to Thor, swinging his hips, eyes blazing. He was mumbling a song, and dancing to it, arms up, down his hair, down his body, on his flies, rolling his hips with his back to Thor, and facing him again to undo the rest of the buttons. He circled around Thor, with yet more tinsel he plucked from the fallen Christmas tree, wearing it like a feather boa. And Thor was watching and loving it, his cock rising from his lap, wagging like a happy puppy’s tail with Loki’s shenanigans. 

“When I get my hands on you, baby…” he was saying. 

Loki slipped out of his pants and flaunted his glorious, fully erect, gold-dusted nakedness. He went down on his knees in front of Thor, finally, and leaned closer… to blow hot breath on that purple, straining cock. Then a feather-light brush of lips. Then the slightest flick of his tongue.

“Fuck, _fuuuuuck_...” growled Thor. “You goddamn tease…”

Whenever he tried to thrust up, seeking some proper contact, Loki pulled back. And then returned to that sexual equivalent of Chinese Water Torture, while Thor grunted, cursed, and strained in his gold and silver bindings.

“You’re going to fucking pay for this…” Thor groaned, when Loki stood up. Tony had never seen him so hard, so big, or so angry.

“I’m not finished,” said Loki. 

Crouching slightly above Thor’s lap, ass hovering, (wet with lube and prepped before the shoot began) he lowered himself down, brushing on the head, and then took it in, only the head, and popped it out again, with a hip twist.

“Holy mother of _fffff…_!” groaned Thor, panting.

Loki did it again, and again, and again.

“Loki, when I get free I swear to god I’m going to fucking…”

* _Pop_ *

“Fuuuuck…”

And again, and again, just the head, that wet pop. Loki was tormenting himself with this, but he clearly thought it was worth it, judging from the smugness of his expression.

“Loki, for the love of…”

* _Pop_ *

“Who owns you?” purred Loki.

Thor roared.

“Who owns you, pet?” repeated Loki, low and whispery.

“Ahhh, fuck,” growled Thor, throwing his head back, “you do… Fuck, fuuuuck...”

“Are you ready to beg yet…”

* _Pop_ *

Thor growled.

* _Pop_ *

“You don’t really w-… (oh sweet frigging Jesus) want me to beg…” panted Thor. (* _Pop_ * — hiss.) You don’t like me doing laundry anyway…”

“You always use low temp settings…” breathed Loki, a small roll of hips. (* _Pop_ *) “Linen and towels need to be… ah… washed at h-high temperatures… to kill the mites…”

“What century are you even from…” groaned Thor.

* _Pop_ *

“Oh, for fucks sakes, baby…”

“All you have to say is please… (* _Pop_ *) …and ask nicely…”

* _Pop_ *

Thor had had enough. With Loki still hell-bent on giving him a heart attack, Thor decided to take matters into his own hands. He set his jaw, and tensed his fists. His biceps bulged, then bulged some more, his face turned blood red, then a mighty roar… And the tinsel ripped, exploding in a little shower of gold and silver. 

Loki staggered backwards, whimpering with arousal, as Thor charged against him like a ram. He was tackled, crushed against the wall, lifted bodily in the air, and impaled bareback on his boyfriend’s extremely hard cock, in one fluid motion. He oomphed and groaned, eyes closing in bliss. They panted together for a moment, eyes locked, before Thor began to pound him savagely. Loki’s smile was one of pure triumph. Tony saluted him. Here is a man who knows how to get what he wants, exactly how he wants it.

When that position didn’t allow him to give it to Loki as hard as he deserved, Thor carried him to a table, and bent him over it. The legs of that heavy, solid hardwood piece of furniture were screech-screech-screeching as they got dragged across the floor with Thor’s vigorous thrusts (Loki whining “ _oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god”_ in time with the slaps).

For the final number, Thor threw Loki over the divan, folded him in half, and with all his weight, he hammered him through the cushions — quite literally: there was a _crack_ , the structure gave in, and Thor kept fucking him regardless. 

When Loki tried to reach for his own cock, Thor grabbed his wrists and held them over his head. Loki’s whimpers were desperate, pleading.

“Thinking of begging yet?” grunted Thor, fucking relentlessly.

Loki, with his eyes half closed, put on a smarmy smirk. Thor pulled out, took himself in hand, and came over his lover, shaking, while Loki cursed him in several languages. Then Thor shoved his cock back in straight after, grinding his hips to milk his orgasm to the last drop, sluggish with climax, panting like a steam train.

But he still wouldn’t let Loki touch himself, and Loki was so hard, leaking, sobbing.

“God fucking dammit,” he pleaded, twisting and pulling and trying to get free, which was not going to happen while still impaled on Thor’s cock with his wrists held in an iron grip above his head.

“Thor, you fucking…”

“What was that…?” teased Thor, grinding, grinding.

“Finish it already!” roared Loki.

“Ask nicely,” whispered Thor, still hard, shifting and pressing inside Loki. 

Loki was sobbing, making little desperate noises that were the hottest thing Tony had ever heard.

“Please…” he finally, finally broke. “Please, baby…”

“Say ‘I beg you’,” whispered Thor, rolling his hips, butt clenching.

“Ah, _fuuuuck…_ ” Loki gritted his teeth, and swallowed his pride. “I beg you…”

Thor stole a deep kiss, and pulled out. He straddled Loki’s hips, sat down on his cock, and began to bounce merrily.

Loki let out a long, throaty, animal growl, and began to fuck up. He opened his eyes and their gazes connected. Thor’s lids were becoming heavy again.

“Fuck…” he sighed.

Thor unmounted and got up. Loki roared in anger before he realised what Thor was up to. Which was to go down on his hands and knees on the floor. Loki wasted no time. He took position and shoved it in. He began to plough, fast and dirty, so close now, while Thor mumbled encouragements.

“Yes, that’s it baby, fuck me, fuck me… Oh fuck baby, you feel so good, you feel so good… You’re making me hard again… God, fuuuuck… Ah, baby, fuck me, harder, harder, fuck me…” He had to dig in his nails and brace himself to counter Loki’s last thrusts.

Loki came like he was breaking down to pieces, bless him, and collapsed bonelessly over his lover’s body, panting. He nuzzled into the back of Thor’s neck, and Thor turned his head for a kiss.

 

And that had all been wonderful, Merry Christmas to you, Tony Stark. But then his babies had cuddled up together on the rug, kissing languorously in a tangle of limbs, whispering sweet nothings, snickering like a couple of kids, and it was so intimate, so private, so fucking _cute_ , Tony had almost, almost turned his face away, but not quite. He wasn’t going to say that had been the hottest thing of all, but fucking hell…

It would be an epic scene. He couldn’t wait till tomorrow. And he could be proud: he had managed to edit some pretty challenging material with only half the blood in his brain. No mean feat, that.

 

 

*

 

 

When Thor got home that evening after a pretty long day, full of promotional engagements, he found his boyfriend on the kitchen floor, crying with anger and frustration, sitting in the middle of a cloud of flour.

“Uuuh… baby?” he said, approaching carefully. Whatever you do, don’t say ‘ _what the hell is going on’_ , don’t say ‘ _have you gone completely mad’,_ don’t say ‘ _did a bomb just explode in our kitchen?’_ “Can… can I help you? At all? Maybe?”

Loki kicked a dirty tin by his feet. It rolled all the way to Thor’s shoe. He picked it up, put it on the worktop, and took another step closer.

“W-what happened?”

“Tried to bake some brownies,” grunted Loki. _Sniffle_. “You know, to take to your mom and dad’s. Overcooked them, so I tried muffins, but they’re so lame. Tiramisù is nice, but it’s not even baked, so would she think I’m a lazy fuck? The macaroons were a stupid idea, just pretentious. The Devil’s Food cake sounded a lot more exciting that what I ended up with. I ran out of ideas.” He curled up into a ball, knees up, sniffing. “I’m such a fucking idiot. She’s going to hate me,” he whispered, with a sob.

Oh. 

“She? You mean, my mom?” asked Thor.

“No, I mean Hillary Clinton!” Loki wiped his nose with the back of his hand, left two snotty-floury tracks across his cheek. 

Thor sat down beside him, back against the cabinets. He didn’t dare touch him yet. He was racking his brains, going over all they had learned at couples counselling. He knew there were a million wrong things to say at this moment. Learning the right thing to say, however, was an entirely different kettle of fish. Good job Loki was also doing much better at processing Thor’s blunders as the well-meaning stabs in the dark they were, and becoming a lot more patient - with the world in general, and with Thor in particular. He snapped less, his sarcasm was more and more on the humour side of the spectrum, rather than the passive-aggressive, and overall they were making progress on all fronts, and doing really well. So well, in fact, that they have gotten to this point — the point in the relationship where the next logical step was to meet Thor’s parents. Which had been arranged for tomorrow, Christmas day.

He had not been entirely happy about leaving Loki alone in the flat when he left that morning. Loki was… well, Thor could tell that his boyfriend had been feeling the pressure. The therapist had warned them not to make a big deal of it if some hiccups occurred in the build-up to the big moment, that they didn’t mean necessarily that they were losing ground. Which was very reassuring, but Thor could have used some cue-cards right now, indicating the exact words he needed not to make this worse.

“My mom doesn’t hate people,” he said, eventually. “It’s just not the way she is.”

Loki sniffled loudly. Thor handed him a tissue. Loki blew his nose.

“I can’t even bake a fucking cake without….” he gestured around. “I’m fucking hopeless. Is _this_ what your parents wanted you to end up with?”

Thor’s heart clenched in pain, but he held it in as best he could. He knew better than to make Loki’s burdens heavier right now by reminding him that hearing him say things like that hurt like hell. They would deal with it later. He tried petting his hair gently, and when Loki didn’t spit or hiss at him, he wrapped an arm on his shoulders, and kept petting him.

“So what happened to all those cakes you baked?” asked Thor, who couldn’t see any.

“Trash.”

 _Shame_. (Don’t say that out loud.)

“What about the cookies you baked yesterday?” (note how he didn’t say ‘what’s wrong’). “Did anything happen?”

“One word: icing.”

Thor arched an eyebrow, uncomprehending. Loki felt blindly on the worktop, looking for something.

“I fucking ruined them,” he said once he found what he’d been fumbling for, and handed Thor a small tray.

Thor had a look at a dozen cookies shaped as snowflakes, decorated with pretty lines of white icing. Bit amateurish, but hardly ruined. 

He didn’t say any of that. Experience had taught him it wouldn’t do any good to contradict Loki right now. It would simply irritate him, and nasty things might get shouted out. No point. Forget the cookies. 

A few months ago, he would have just told Loki to leave it alone, that nobody expected him to bring anything anyway, that he had been baking all day, and it was so late, wasn’t he tired? He would have told him to leave it be, have a rest, and forget about it. A few months later, Thor had learned that, hearing (basically) that the very thing that had caused his meltdown didn’t matter to anyone but him, wasn’t going to help Loki in the least. Quite the opposite. He knew now that, if it mattered to Loki, it just _mattered_ , so it had to be dealt with accordingly; end of.

“She loves fruit cakes,” said Thor after a bit of thinking. “Anything spongy with chunks of fresh fruit baked inside, and she’ll be your biggest fan.”

Loki frowned in thought. Thor held on to his butt for an answer.

“Like… apple or something?” asked Loki.

 _Phew_.

“Yeah, exactly. Apple and berries in a nice, plain, buttery sponge cake, a crust of sugar on top. Straightest way to her heart.”

“Really?” said Loki.

“Yup, really,” said Thor, wiping the flour off the tip of his boy’s nose. The snotty strip on the cheek would require tools.

Loki’s expression had changed. His frown was not angry anymore, but from thinking. His eyes were no longer glassy with tears, but bright with the sharp turns of his brain as it rounded the troops and assessed his resources. He hopped onto his feet, and began to rummage in the cupboards. 

Ten fucking points to Gryffindor, said Thor to himself, still from the floor.

“So, can I eat these?” He went to grab a cookie.

“No!” said Loki, swatting his hand and taking the tray away from him. “You need to go to the shops. We need butter, eggs, apples, and berries. _And_ you need to watch your fucking carbs; you’re a porn star, remember?”

Thor smiled all the way to the shops, and whistled happily all the way back. He bought some flowers too. Loki was too engrossed in the task to notice straight away, but he would, eventually, and Thor was sure, he would love them.

 

 

 

About an hour and a half later, Loki plummeted on the couch next to him. He looked exhausted, but serene.          

“Success?” asked Thor.

“I guess so… Are you sure that’s what she likes? Looks a little plain…”

“I’m sure. And it smells like a cake my grandma used to make. What did you put in it?”

“Cinnamon and aniseed.”

Thor inhaled, with a hum of delight. 

“She’s going to have a Proust moment,” he said. “Trip back in time. She’s going to adore you for it.”

“You sure?”

Thor drew him close to kiss his head.

“I’m sure.”

Loki scooted as close as he could get, and burrowed under his arm. Thor held him tight.

“I love you, Thor,” whispered Loki.

“I love you too, baby.” Thor sighed in content. “Happy anniversary.”

“Oh, fuck,” groaned Loki, hiding his face in Thor’s shoulder. “Shit. Fuck. Sorry…”

“It’s alright, baby.” He pressed his lips on Loki’s forehead for a long, intense kiss. “It’s alright.”

“Happy anniversary,” mumbled Loki. “I did remember yesterday, and the day before, I swear… I’ve remembered for months…”

“It’s alright, baby…”

“I fucking swear! Wait, I’ll show you…”

He escaped from under Thor’s arm and had a rummage in his knitting trunk. 

Knitting had started as occupational therapy for Loki, to relax and have a creative outlet when writing was too much, but it had grown into a fully-fledged obsession. He had discovered a passion for fibre and stitch patterns and colour and rare breeds and exotic, one-of-a-kind, hand-dyed skeins he would hunt around country fairs like the Holy Grail, as he amassed a growing hoard of wool that nobody could live long enough to use, but clearly made Loki happy. 

And now he had a bundle in his arms, and was shakingly offering it to Thor.

“I forgot to wrap it. And it’s really bad luck, but…”

Thor spread out the bundle on his lap. It was a hand knitted sweater.

“Oh, wow! Baby, it’s beautiful! When did you even make this! I didn’t see you doing that!”

“Whenever you were out, working or whatever.”

“Aww, baby!” He slipped it on, and modeled it in front of the hall mirror, cuddling himself. It was slightly asymmetrical, one sleeve noticeably longer than the other, kind of itchy around the neck, and smelled of sheep (only natural fibres for Loki, thank you very much, none of that acrylic shit; he was a right fibre snob), but was already Thor’s favourite garment in the entire universe. He looked at his boyfriend with a look that would have made any passer-by sick.

“Come here…” he opened his arms.

“You really like it?” said Loki, snuggling up.

“I fucking love it. Why do you say it’s bad luck?”

“There’s something called the Boyfriend Jumper Curse. Common lore in the knitting community would have it that, if you knit a jumper for your boyfriend, the relationship is basically doomed.”

“You’re not supposed to knit anything for your boyfriend?”

“You’re supposed to knit things that don’t take a lot of time and effort, and save the sweaters for, uh…” Loki went quiet.

“For, uh?” prompted Thor.

After a good minute, Loki mumbled, with a thread of a voice. 

“Husband.” He put his chin up and shook it off. “But anyway, sod superstitions, right? They don’t mean anything. And I don’t need to get married to anyone to knit him a fucking jumper, right? I don’t need to get _married_ , period,” he declared. 

Thor gave him an odd look.

“Right.”

There was a strange silence, which Thor killed with a thorough kiss. 

“It’s beautiful, baby. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

Thor cleared his throat. 

“I have something for you too, but, uuuh… Anyway. Bed?” he said.

“Need a shower first. Got flour and icing sugar fucking everywhere…”

“Everywhere?” repeated Thor, with a growl.

Loki shoved an elbow into his ribs. Thor laughed, slipped one hand under Loki’s shirt, and began to trace circles on the bones of his hips with the tip of his fingers. It got Loki squirming and giggling. He felt really nice, and smelled even better.

“Be careful, goddammit… This sweater needs to be washed by hand… You want to get it covered in flour within the first ten minutes of having it on?” But even as he admonished him, he was offering his neck for a kiss, his eyes closed.

“So,” purred Thor, kissing, “before we clean you up, how about we get you a bit dirtier?”

Loki chuckled.

“We need to be up early tomorrow,” he said, with a sigh, as he kept a solid hold on Thor’s head, so that he didn’t move his mouth away from his skin. 

“So we’ll make it quick,” mumbled Thor, lavishing adoration on Loki’s neck.

“That’s what you always say…”

They didn’t. To be fair, they rarely did.

 

 

A while later, with Loki snoring softly next to him, clinging onto his body like a sloth to his branch, Thor petted his boy’s hair and tried not to be too disappointed. This was not how he had planned to spend this evening. He had thought romantic dinner for two, maybe even candles, nice music, an extended bout of lovemaking, which would start with him kissing the inside of Loki’s wrist, Gomez Addams style, and end up at the other wrist, taking the scenic route. And then, once he had Loki relaxed, satisfied, and his brain floating in happy hormones, Thor was going to…

…Oh, well. 

No, he was not going to do this straight after a meltdown. He didn’t trust Loki’s brain not to twist his offer into something it was not, and ruin the moment. 

Sigh. It would have been sweet to do it on their anniversary, but there would be more days, right? Pretty much _all_ of them, if Thor had his way. 

Then again, Loki just kept fucking repeating _that thing_ , at the smallest chance he got, ‘Don’t need to get married, don’t need to get married’… Was he just saying that, or was he trying to say something else, or…? Fucking hell. He was so confused these days, it wasn’t even funny.

Loki turned on his side and burrowed closer, making a little happy noise. Thor watched him in silence until he fell asleep himself.

 

____________

 

 

(Christmas morning)

 

They were on the porch, in front of the house. Thor carried the biscuit tin, Loki had the apple cake under his arm. He was jumpy and skittish, and looking distinctly not himself in a white button-down shirt, marine blue v-neck sweater, shiny black shoes, and a pair of wool trousers that fitted him like a glove (like a _painted on_ fucking glove). Thor had tried not to show his, um, _appreciation_ for that outfit (which hadn’t been easy, what with Mother Nature having been so outrageously generous with him and all), because Loki thought those clothes made him look like a _good boy_ , respectable and personable, the kind of guy one can introduce to mom and dad. He had tried five different combinations this morning, panicking more and more, until he finally settled on this one, and his boyfriend wouldn’t be the one to tell him that, to him, he looked like the most indecent fantasy of a schoolboy who has been very, very naughty, and is in need a good spanking… (Goddammit, Mother Nature. Thor made himself conjure up in his mind the Republican presidential candidates, which never failed to water down his, uh, _enthusiasm_.)

“Ok, baby?” he said, giving his boyfriend’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Shall we?”

Loki gulped.

“Yeah, ok. Go ahead.”

Thor rang the bell. Frigga was there in under thirty seconds.

“Oh, darling!” she called, giving her son a big hug. She smelled like apples, and _that_ soap, and home. 

She turned to Loki, who was shivering like a leaf, digging his fingers into his boyfriend’s hand.

“Loki,” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you at last.” She opened her arms and waited with a bright, warm expression. She didn’t invade his space or push herself on him. 

Loki took a step closer, with big, anxious eyes. He really was not used to this. She put her arms around him, and tightened her embrace little by little; Thor felt Loki’s grip on his hand relax, and felt ecstatic. This was going good. This was going _great_.

“Come on in, please! Sorry, I’m a mess!” she touched her hair, up in a rushed, messy bun. “Sorry your father and your brother are not here to greet you. I shipped them off to the shops to get a few last minute things. Oh, what’s this! You brought dessert! Thank god, I’ve been so busy, I never got round to it.”

“You didn’t have to go through so much trouble…” said Loki, timid.

“I know, darling, I know. But I got a bit nervous, I’m afraid. I was making the roast, when I realised I wasn’t sure if you ate meat, so I got on with a vegetable lasagne, but then you might be lactose intolerant, or have trouble with gluten, or… In short, I got myself into a bit of a mess! I was so very close to throw it all out the window and order a take out! But what did you bring? It smells so nice! A family recipe?”

“Actually, uh, it’s from the, uh, internet. My family… well, my dad wasn’t into baking. Maybe my mom was, I-I don’t know. She left.”

Frigga didn’t offer pity or commiseration. She nodded and listened, light and easy on the drama.

“Well, then, does that mean you taught yourself to bake?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Just like me, then! My parents were both absolutely hopeless in the kitchen. I grew up on powdered soup and spaghetti loops from a tin,” she said, her tone as cheery as tinkerbells. “So now I’m forever trying to learn new things to cook and bake! I have such a lot of great foodie memories to catch on!”

“C-can I help at all?” offered Loki.

“Oh, that would be great. I haven’t started with the stuffing yet! I think we should have a fire today. Not that we need it - the heating is working fine - but it’s just so pretty, and I do like to see that hearth being used. What do you think?”

“Y-yeah,” said Loki, “that would be very nice.”

“Thor, why don’t you go get some wood from the shed? We’ve got this.”

 

 

When Thor returned to the kitchen half an hour later, once he had fetched the wood and got the fire going, he found his mother and his boyfriend working side by side by the worktop, Loki in a borrowed apron with a floral Liberty pattern, laughing and chatting away about baking and writing, weaving and knitting. They both had that luminous expression of one who feels they’ve found a kindred spirit. 

And Thor just sat by and watched, with a beer close at hand, feeling extremely vindicated. He knew it, he just fucking knew it. How wonderful it was to see the two people he loved most in the world falling in love with each other, before his very eyes. Loki was so engrossed in their chat, he didn’t even have time to roll his eyes at the incredibly foolish, sickeningly sappy expression Thor guessed must be on his own face.

 

 

*

 

 

When Odin and Balder arrived, Loki was feeling so much more confident, so much more cheerful. Which had been Frigga’s plan all along when he sent those two away, Loki was sure of it now. She had prepared it so that he would meet the family in tolerable increments. So that’s where Thor gets his thoughtfulness and his magic touch from…

Odin was a lot shorter than Loki had imagined. Balder, a lot taller.

“It’s an immense pleasure to meet you,” said the old man, a looker even at his silver-haired age, shaking his hand with an iron paw. “Not as great as it was for my son when he first met you, but great nonetheless.”

A short silence followed. Odin’s face was untroubled (unlike Thor’s, who was suffering an incandescent blush), so Loki decided that had been an awkward joke. He laughed politely.

Junior next.

“My my my,” he said, shaking Balder’s hand as he appraised him from head to toe. That boy was fucking stunning! “What do you feed these kids, Frigga?”

Balder managed to grow a couple of inches in every direction, bursting with pride. He was beautiful, but looked kind of… spaced out?

When Loki caught his boyfriend’s dark squint, he grinned impishly, and winked. Yes, Thor had the nerve to get territorial on him, but it only translated into having him assert his alpha-male status in Loki’s life, heart, and loins, by pounding him even harder into the mattress at the first occasion that arose. Fucking win all around. It was certainly not going to discourage Loki from flirting.

Over dinner, they talked about Loki’s writing, about Odin’s life since retiring, about Frigga’s weaving, and how her textile design company had grown from a small cottage industry to an operation employing fifty. They talked about that lovely house and the garden. They talked about their respective holidays last summer, and places they had been to. 

Then, Loki made the mistake of asking Balder what did he want to do in the future while Thor was having a drink.

“I want to be a porn actor!” 

Thor spluttered red wine on the immaculate embroidered tablecloth.

“How does one actually become a porn actor?” said Odin, still with that disconcerting expression, keen but unaffected, not only devoid of humour but kind of… _professionally_ serious? Loki couldn’t quite work him out. Either the man was… well, like _that_ , or this was one of the most subtle forms of trolling he had ever witnessed. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. In any case, it seemed to make Frigga and Thor pretty uncomfortable, if all that heavy forehead-rubbing was anything to go by. Unfortunately for them, Loki had a very, very mischievous streak, and this was firing it up like whoa. He would try his best to behave, but he couldn’t make any promises.

“Well,” said Loki, patting his lips dry after stalling with a drink of water, “at Stark Studios, one usually submits a short resume or cover letter, and a video, uuuuh, introducing oneself, and then, if found eligible, one is called to make a test.” That was delicate enough, wasn’t it?

“What sort of test?” asked Balder.

Thor mumbled “ _fucksakes_ ” under his breath. Loki pursed his mouth to refrain a smirk.

“Well, one that proves that ( _harrumph_ ) one can stand the camera and the studio setting and, uh, rise to the occasion, so to speak.”

“Right, because it’s not easy, right? In a studio? With lots of people watching?” insisted Balder.

Loki cleared his throat. Thor was focusing on his plate, tidying up the remaining peas in two neat rows with his knife.

“It can be intimidating, yes,” said Loki. “One gets, um, used to it.”

“But some people like it, right? Do you like it?”

Loki cleared his throat once more.

“Well, I certainly, uh, don’t mind.”

“Did you have to do all that? The cover letter and the video and all?” said Balder, like a dog with a bone.

“Uh, I never did apply. They sought me out.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well, Tony Stark saw me perform with my band and suggested I made a screen test for him.”

“It must have been quite a performance, if Stark thought you had potential for a career in porn!” said Odin, with a bawdy chuckle. “You must take us to see him one day, son!” he added, turning to Thor.

Loki laughed. Right, so _that_ was Odin making a joke. Right?

“Will you help me prepare my video?” said Balder then.

“Thor tells me you are trying to get more professional with the band?” interceded Frigga, clearly attempting to change the subject. Or at least it was clear to Loki…

“So you think I have a shot?” said Balder.

“I still remember before home cinema was invented,” Odin began to ramble, oblivious to her wife and oldest son’s utter agony of embarrassment and discomfort. “One had to go to the theatre to watch porn. There’s something to be said for the collective, public experience, but I guess in the privacy of one’s own home one has more freedom to explore new dimensions. What do kids call them these days, kinks? For example…”

“Thor, darling,” said Frigga, giving up, “please help me take these dirty dishes to the kitchen…”

 

 

*

 

 

“God,” huffed Thor, cheeks still burning, and still flustered, “thanks for the rescue, mom.”

“Loki seems to be coping well… He actually seems to enjoy himself.”

“The little shit,” smiled Thor.

“He’s all you said, and more,” said his mother, with a complicit smile.

“I told you I wasn’t doing him justice.”

“I’m so happy for you, darling,” she pulled him into a hug. “You look so happy, so very much in love, both of you. And if he hasn’t run away yet, after a whole dinner-long exposure to your dad and your brother, I think we can be confident that there’s nothing you two can’t face. You have found a keeper, darling.”

Thor smiled as wide as it was physically possible, maybe a little bit more. 

“So, how did it go, yesterday?” said Frigga, rinsing dishes in the sink. “Did you ask him?”

“No,” Thor’s expression dampened. He explained last evening’s events to his mother.

“Oh. I’m sorry, honey. But do you still want to ask him?”

“I do, but…”

“But?”

“He gets stiff as a board whenever the subject gets mentioned, and he tries to stomp it out as quickly as he possibly can… Like he doesn’t want to hear one word of it. He keeps saying, ‘I don’t need to get married, I don’t need to get married’...”

“Hm,” meditated Frigga. “But you still think it’s something he wants?”

“I used to… I thought he was a little bit old-fashioned like that, you know? That he was into the whole ‘put a ring on it’ kind of philosophy. He’s always a little bit insecure, or a lot, even, and I wanted to make him know that… Well, that he’s the one and only for me, forever… That he’ll always have me, no matter what. And I’ve told him all this, but… but I really thought he’d want it in writing. I don’t know. And he’s made so much progress on all fronts, with his self-esteem and his moods and all, and he’s much more stable, and more open and more confident, you know, with his feelings, and… Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s a mistake to pop the question just like that. Maybe we should do this with some precautions, in a controlled, monitored environment. But I really didn’t want for Loki to first hear of this at the therapist’s, you know? I wanted to make it a nice surprise, bit romantic even… I don’t know.”

Frigga had finished up loading up the dishwasher, while Thor had been wrapping and stowing away leftovers. 

“But you’re not just doing this because you think it’s what Loki wants, are you?”

“No! Not at all. I love him so much. Like he was family. Like he’d always been family. Never felt like that before, for anyone. We just click, you know? We rub each other so well… It’s not a chore to look after him or work on getting along and understanding each other better. He is awesome, mom, one in a billion. One in six billion, rather. And I want the world to know. I want _him_ to know. That I’ve found the one that makes it all worth it, and that it’s him.”

Frigga had listened with a tender smile. Her baby, all grown up. 

“You know that I’ve always advocated erring on the side of caution with Loki, with the many challenges you have faced as a couple and as individuals over this last year, but with something like this… Oh, I don’t know, perhaps it’s my inner romantic speaking, but… Oh, just go for it, son. Chance it. With so much love in your heart, I really can’t see any wrong coming from this. Even if he says no.”

 

 

“Awww…!” swooned Loki. “How old was he in this one?”

They had been showing him photo albums for the last hour. It seemed like Loki couldn’t get enough. So far, the experience for Thor had ranged from boring but tolerable (baby), to embarrassing but manageable (toddler), from disturbing (little blonde cherub) to excruciating (chubby pre-teen), to really fucking crucifying (gangly, moody teenager) and simply unendurable (his twenties, no comment). He had always loved the camera, and he had always been a poser. Loki mocked him relentlessly for it. Thor wished he could go back in time and slap his younger selves one after the other, for being such self-aware sluts for attention. 

“We should have been able to predict from his earliest days that he had a career in the porn industry,” noted Odin as they passed a picture of three-year-old Thor running naked at the beach.

“Daaa-aaad!” groaned Thor, hiding his face, steam whistling from his ears.

“What do you m-…?” said Balder. “Oh, right!” ( _Oh no_ ) “Then so do I! I’ll get my photo albums.”

“ _No_!” barked Thor.

“Yes, indeed. Our boys have gotten the best of us both, haven’t they, Frig?” chuckled Odin. “Your bone structure and gentle disposition, and my…”

Frigga stood up in a whirl.

“Coffee, anyone?”

 

*

 

They exchanged presents over coffee and cake. Loki had knitted a scarf for Odin, a cowl for Balder, and a lace shawl for Frigga. Mom gave them both a hand-woven bed throw in her most recent style, inspired by Norse mythology, Viking carvings, and runic designs. It left Loki speechless. Odin gave Loki a fountain pen, dipped in gold, encrusted with jade and onyx, which also left him speechless.

And then they opened Balder’s presents. Odin got a book on yachting (a common passion), Frigga a golden locket with a photo of her children when they were little, and Thor and Loki got an oblong box, elegantly wrapped in black and silver.

“It’s to share. I hope you think of me when you use it,” he said, smiling from ear to ear.

Thor let Loki do the honours. It was a gorgeous, smooth, silver-finish dildo, with remote control. 

Frigga looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her, a faraway expression that said, “where did I go so wrong”. Thor looked like he wanted the earth to swallow Balder. Odin took the toy out of its black velvet moulded case, and examined it, admiring the sleek design, and fiddling with the remote.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Technology has gone far! In my day…” A jerky startle when the thing suddenly came alive in his hands. The bulbous head vibrated, circled and buzzed merrily in the air. 

“It has eight power settings!” contributed Balder, boastful. “And five different speeds!”

Loki couldn’t help himself. He laughed his ass off. 

 

 

 

The sun had set a while ago, and nobody had so far bothered to turn on the lights, as the December dusk turned into night. The only light came from the TV screen, where _It’s a Wonderful Life_ was on. Everybody dozy and quiet, digesting their dinner, laughing now and then with the jokes they had watched one thousand times. A perfect time for mischief.

Thor was tracing circles in the palm of Loki’s hand. It was delightfully ticklish. Loki turned his head a bit, they held each other’s gaze for a moment. Thor harrumphed, stretched his arms far and wide, and when he put them down again, he managed to disturb the blanket on his lap in such a way that, when he rearranged it again, it fell on Loki’s hand too. Thor grabbed it, and put it on his own lap. He continued stroking ticklish patterns on Loki’s skin.

Loki scooted a bit closer, more of him falling under the blanket. He began to idly stroke Thor’s thigh, up, down, up, down. He saw Thor’s eyes get heavier, and he stroked a bit higher up. Then even higher. Thor gulped, poker-faced, when Loki found his cock and put some pressure on the head. It was already half-hard. Loki continued to apply some gentle, rhythmic pressure, and felt it growing. Thor gulped again. He threw his arms over the back of the couch, and began to pet Loki’s hair. Slow and innocent, except for how Thor knew Loki’s scalp was a massively sensitive erogenous zone. Loki’s eyelids fluttered, his breathing became heavier. He counteracted with slow strokes now along Thor’s shaft, and rhythmic squeezes. It responded, twitching and tugging as it strained against the denim. Thor’s fingers raked deeper into Loki’s scalp, and the fiery shivers dripped down his neck, down his back, and all the way to… _Hmmm_...

Perhaps Thor thought they were being subtle. Loki had no such illusions. He had noticed that Frigga’s eyes had become obsessively glued to the screen for some time now, as if instead of a beloved classic revisited a hundred times, it was a rapturous thriller. Odin for his part had harrumphed twenty times in the last ten minutes, and as for Balder, he looked like he was going to pull a muscle trying to see without turning his head.

Well, this has been fun, but.

“Oh dear,” said Loki, forcing a yawn. “I’m so tired.”

“Such an emotional day!” said Frigga, with evident relief. “Go to bed at once. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bless.

They said their goodnights. From behind the blanket, which they took upstairs with them, for decency.

 

 

 

“I love your room…” mumbled Loki between kisses, as his boyfriend crowded him against the door, kneading his butt with greedy hands. “Why is the mascot of your football team a horse with eight legs?”

“Later…” grumbled Thor, as he got him out of his sweater and shirt. “God, I’ve been on fucking fire all day… This outfit, baby… I wanted to bend you over my knee…”

Loki laughed.

“So why don’t you…” a sultry whisper.

Thor actually fucking lifted him in his arms, sat on the bed, and yes, fuck, bent him over on his lap.

“Oh my god…” gasped Loki, cock throbbing. “I was fucking joking…”

Thor unbuttoned Loki’s pants and lowered them with one strong tug, exposing half his butt, constricting his cock and balls. Loki hissed, and then moaned.

“You’ve been such a naughty boy today, egging my dad on, flirting with my brother…” said Thor, kneading his ass-cheeks, slipping one hand in his pants from back to front, fumbling with what he found there. “If I wasn’t afraid of the noise, I’d give you a fucking spanking…” 

“Ahhh… _fuuuuck_ …” groaned Loki, humping him. “Do you mean they’ll hear us?”

Thor had wetted his fingers and was probing between his cheeks.

“Wood frame,” he said, rubbing, circling, pushing. “Creaky house.”

Loki laughed, between two languorous moans.

“You can’t fucking tease me like that… Do you mean to tell me we can’t…?”

Thor covered his boyfriend’s mouth with one hand, and slipped one finger inside him.

“I mean to say you have to be quiet…” he whispered.

Loki moaned against the palm of his boyfriend’s hand, who began to finger fuck him at a tortuously slow pace. He took it, bucking his hips, seeking to relieve his cock, squashed in the very narrow space created by his crumpled pants.

“I’ve been wanting to have you like this for hours…” panted Thor. 

“Grmmmblfff…” said Loki against his palm. 

“What was that…? Did you say harder…?” He chuckled darkly, and added another finger.

“Grmblfff!!”

“God, baby, look at you…” He fingered him at a constant pace, driving it deep, sharp movements. 

Loki’s breathing fell into it, whimpering as it built up. Thor’s panting was getting quicker.

“Fuck this,” he gasped, impatiently, “I need to…” He pulled out and manhandled Loki onto the mattress. The metal frame groaned woefully, but they ignored it. They wrestled and squirmed out of their clothes, Thor harder than an iron rod, kissing him with that hunger that reached every time under all the layers Loki kept around himself. He put Loki’s legs over his shoulders, and kissed his way down his body. Loki sunk his nails into Thor’s scalp, guiding him lower, and closed his eyes, panting with anticipation…

Two knocks on the door.

“Guys, you awake?”

Balder. They scrambled to sit decently and cover up, because the door was already opening. 

“Hey, it’s your new scene!” said Balder, walking in, straight for the bed. “It’s just come out and it already has, like, three thousand hits, and counting! Have you seen it?”

“No! And we don’t want to see it!” shouted Thor, but Balder was already making himself comfortable on the bed.

“Nonsense. I do,” said Loki, who was already looking forwards to decades of this game, having fun at the expense of Thor and his kid brother. 

“You have such an incredible body…” commented Balder, checking Loki out unabashedly, both in the little screen of his smartphone, _and_ in the flesh. “You too, Thor,” (same). His tone was purely descriptive, as if he was remarking on the classic theme of the Christmas deco of the set.

“You’re very kind,” said Loki, smiling impishly.

Thor threw himself back on the bed and put a pillow on his face, groaning.

They fast forwarded now and then, to get a quick overview, stopping when something caught their eye.

“Wow, that looks kind of rough…” said Balder, about the exercise on screen. “Doesn’t it hurt? I mean, Thor is so big, and I bet this angle is…”

Thor growled, the sound muffled by the pillow.

“I’m used to it,” said Loki sweetly, kind of big sister-like. “You have to prepare well, and you have to have experience, and then it’s really, really nice.”

“Right. You do seem to be enjoying yourself. Do you think I should try? I mean, I’ve experimented with my own fingers, but…”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” roared Thor, pillow flying across the room. “Shut up, both of you! Balder, _out_! We’re trying to have some fucking _alone grown up_ _time_ here!”

Balder looked at them both, as if he noticed for the first time that they were naked.

“Oh! Oh, right! Right, I get it.” He gave them what in him passed for a knowing smile. Then his eyes lit up with an idea. “Oh my god! Can I watch?”

“What?” gasped Thor, horrified. “No! Get the fuck _out_!”

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving…” grumbled Balder, totally unfazed, only slightly disappointed. He clearly didn’t understand what the fuss was all about. 

Once by the door, before he closed it, he winked. 

“Have fun! Enjoy my present!”

“Night, night, Balder…” waved Loki.

Thor got up and, since there wasn’t a lock, he blocked the door with a dresser. He stomped back to bed in a right huff.

“Fucking creep,” he grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be like that! He’s very sweet…”

“He gets off watching his own brother fuck other guys. He’s a creep.”

“You forget his brother is you,” argued Loki. “I swear, if you were _my_ brother…”

“Please, stop it.”

Loki chuckled darkly, and let him off the hook. This once.

“Alright then,” he said, slipping his hand under the covers, “where were we…”

Soft and limp was where they were, and very, very sulky, arms crossed over the chest and all, with a deep, grumpy frown.

“Oh my,” said Loki, “seems like I’ve just found out the one thing on this sweet earth that turns you off!”

Thor let out a moody huff, arms still crossed. Loki ignored it, and whispered in his ear.

“Isn’t it lucky that I also know all the buttons that turn you on…?” With a nice squeeze on Thor’s soft cock, he licked into the shell of his ear.

“I fucking can’t, with Balder next door, and his ear glued to the wall,” grumbled Thor.

“Oh, come on, he’s seen your videos anyway…”

“Don’t fucking remind me!”

“Do you really, really not want to?” asked Loki, too astonished to be disappointed. That was a fucking first!

Thor pouted, and shrugged.

“Not that I don’t want to, just…” he gestured to the wall in front, separating them from Balder.

“I have faith in you, baby,” he purred by Thor’s ear, stroking the flesh between Thor’s thighs, rolling his balls in his hand. “There is no way you’ll miss the chance to fuck me in your old bed… The bed you used to wank on as a teenager, fantasizing about the day you’d have somebody real in it… I can almost see you now, with a hand down your shorts, shutting your eyes, daydreaming… squeezing your fist around your cock, fucking into it… Wondering how it might feel, to put it in a nice, hot, tight… _oh_.” Loki made a delighted sound at the feel of his boyfriend’s cock twitching, coming back to life. He leaned close to his ear again, and whispered, “Roll over.”

Thor obeyed, shoulders loose, eyes closed. Loki straddled his thighs and brushed his fingertips lightly over that glorious back and magnificent butt. Beneath him, Thor squirmed, goosebumps breaking out under Loki’s touch. His breathing was heavy, relaxed.

“What did you fantasize about?” whispered Loki.

“I don’t know… Guys at school… Ewan McGregor… Mr. Heimdall…”

“Who’s that?”

“Art teacher.”

“Oooh, I see,” purred Loki. “Tell me about him.”

Thor had a blissful expression now.

“Coolest, handsomest, hottest, smoothest guy I’d ever seen… Really big, really strong, that rumbling voice… Had a boyfriend… Gorgeous, lean, arty type… They came together to end-of-year fests…” A gruff chuckle. “I wanted them to take me home with them…”

Loki kept stroking with light touches down Thor’s back. He was very hard himself, his erection resting between Thor’s butt cheeks. He wasn’t in a hurry.

“He was the third adult I came out to, after my parents,” added Thor.

“For support and guidance? ‘Please Mr. Heimdall, teach me…’ “ said Loki.

Thor chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I was really after. ... I had this fantasy… That I would tell him about me and he’d… you know, he’d show me the ways of the world… I had done some things by then… You know, hand jobs, blow jobs, rubbing dicks… I had even fucked a guy, but you know, what I really, really wanted… what I used to jerk off to…”

“You wanted to get fucked,” said Loki. He was mindlessly bucking his hips, his cock still rubbing dry between Thor’s cheeks.

“Yeah,” said Thor. “But it scared me too, you know…”

“You wanted someone with experience,” said Loki. “So who was this guy you fucked?”

“Ah, he was a bit older. I only saw him like twice a year, when we went to play at their school… I had a massive crush… The day he told me I could fuck him, god…”

“And did you use protection, Mr. Odinson?” said Loki, severely, putting on a huskier voice.

Thor chuckled.

“Uhhh… Not always…”

Loki slapped his butt. Thor started.

“I am very disappointed,” said Loki, his tone stern and patronising. “I expected better from a clever young man such as yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” said Thor, smiling. “Won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t, because from now on, you’re not going to see anyone until you _learn_ , and I’m going to teach you.”

“Oh my god, Loki…” chuckled Thor. Which earned him another loud smack on the butt. This one left a pink mark.

“Silence,” said Loki. “You are to call me sir or Mr. Heimdall. I’m still your teacher. Show some respect, boy.” 

“Sorry,” mumbled Thor, mouth pursed to refrain a smile.

“Sorry, what.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Much better. Now, be quiet and still.”

He pushed Thor’s thighs slightly apart, sitting between them, and dragged his claws down Thor’s back, then one single fingertip all the way down his spine, to the crack of his ass. Thor had his eyes closed, his breathing heavy, shuddering with anticipation, a frown of concentration to stay in the fantasy and get as much fun out of it as he could.

“Has anyone ever touched you here, boy?” said Loki, circling one fingertip on the spot.

“N-no sir,” said Thor, faking timidity. It made Loki’s cock tug hard.

“Have you experimented on yourself?”

“A little.”

“What have you used? Nothing dangerous, I expect?”

“Only my fingers, sir.”

“That’s a good boy. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give me your hand.” 

Thor held his breath as Loki lifted his arm up to his mouth. The angle was demanding. 

“Beautiful hands…”

“Thank you, sir.”

“How many fingers can you take, boy?”

“Only two, sir.”

Loki slipped two of Thor’s fingers inside his mouth and gave them a thorough, wet suck, which had Thor panting slightly, grinding his crotch against the mattress, his butt clenching beautifully - Loki took full advantage of his front-row seat to enjoy the view. Once he had Thor’s fingers dripping, he led them to the spot.

“Show me.”

“Yes, sir.”

While Loki parted the cheeks, Thor pushed in with one finger, soon breaching the ring of muscle with the confidence and eagerness of experience. After a few thrusts, he added the second. He was humping the mattress, his thighs kept apart by Loki’s body.

“You can go a bit harder, can’t you, boy?”

“ _Ah_ … Yes, sir… Like this… sir?”

“Yeah, that’s good… Does that feel good, boy?”

“Y-yeah…”

Loki was so hard he was aching, and his eyes sparkled with humour and lust. This was fucking wonderful. He kept the cheeks parted for Thor, kneading them at leisure, his gaze mesmerised with those fingers hooking in to try and get to the gold. Thor arched up his back for a better reach, his arm straining. 

“Do you ever make yourself come like that?”

“Ahh… No.”

“You need to touch your cock too?”

“Yes… sir…”

“Carry on. Is it good?”

“It’s good sir… But it’s not enough anymore…”

“Oh. Do you wish it was something more… substantial?”

“Yes… yes sir…”

“Do you wish it was a cock?”

“Ahhh… yes. P-please, sir…” driving his fingers faster, stabbing hard.

“Oh, I see…” Loki put on an affable chuckle that came out quite _professorly_. “Is that what you want?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Have you thought about it?”

“God… yes, sir…”

“Tell me.”

“I’ve thought about your cock, sir… Inside me…”

“Alone in your room? As you fingered yourself?”

“Y-yeah…”

“And did you come, thinking of my cock? Imagining yourself underneath me, as I fucked you… really hard…?”

“God, yes… Yes…” Whimpering as his fingers aroused him but didn’t really stimulate him enough for it to build up.

“Was it very frustrating?”

“Fuck, yes…”

“And now you want the real thing.”

“P-please, sir… please…”

“But that would be extremely untoward…”

“But sir… I want it... nobody needs to know… I won’t tell…”

“Oh, Odinson, how very naughty…”

“Yes sir…” Thor was humping harder. “I’m a very naughty boy… I’m begging you, sir…”

“What would you do for it…”

“God, anything… Sir, I’d do anything.”

“Before you can take a real cock, you still have a lot to learn…”

“Yes sir. Teach me, sir…”

Loki got up from the bed, and went to have a rummage in their bag. 

“Close your eyes, boy. Keep going with your fingers.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, Mr. Odinson,” said Loki, with a smack on Thor's butt. “Up, on your knees. Bend over, face on the bed. That’s it. Do not open your eyes. Now, this is important. You have to be able to take it, if you’re ever going to be able to take my cock. Ready, boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Loki pushed Balder’s Christmas present gently into Thor’s ass. He had lubed it and warmed it up while Thor got into position. The line of tension along Thor’s back as he felt the intrusion made Loki’s cock leak. His boyfriend was a vision like that, his erection dangling stiff, so heavy and thick, and the base of the toy protruding out of his ass. And if Loki was imagining Balder listening, or better still, Balder in the room with them, standing up in the corner, touching himself as he watched his brother begging and whining with his present up his ass… Well, Thor didn’t need to know.

“How does that feel, Mr. Odinson?”

“Big, sir,” mumbled Thor.

“Too big? Do you need me to get it out?”

“No, sir, I can take it.” He was shifting his butt in the air, aching for stimulation. “Are you going to fuck me with it? Please, sir, I’m desperate…”

“You’re going to be quiet, and let me decide what it is to be done with you, understand?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Loki was panting, and painfully hard himself, but he wanted to make this good, and make it last. He examined the remote in his hand. He wondered what happened if he turned this dial…

A low buzz.

“ _Ahhhh_ …!” Thor shook up, clenched his ass and tensed his back, clutching the pillow. He was shivering, whimpering.

“Is that good, Odinson?”

“ _Hnnnghh…_ yes, it’s g-good sir… oh god…” he was sucking in sharp breaths, releasing them with a shudder.

Loki kept it on a low setting for some time, watching Thor suffer from the constant understimulation.

“P-please…” gasped Thor… “P-please…”

Loki cranked it up. Thor groaned low and long, humping the air, pre-come pearling on the tip of his neglected cock. Loki put down the remote, and grabbed the toy. He fucked in and out slowly with it. The sound out of Thor’s mouth, fuuuuuck…

“Do you like that, boy?”

Thor was sobbing, still and tense as Loki fucked him slowly. 

“Fuck… sir… Fuuuck… I beg you…”

“What do you want, Mr. Odinson.”

“You…” sobbed Thor. 

“Do you want my cock,” whispered Loki.

“Yes… yes…”

“Ask properly.”

“Oh god… Please, sir… put your cock inside me… Fuck me, sir… _Please…_ ”

“Do you promise you won’t tell?”

“God, yes, yes, I swear… Please, sir, fuck me, I need it, fuck me…”

Loki had endured this torture for as long as he possibly could. He turned the thing off, and extracted it gently. He took position behind Thor, and stroked his cock on the crack, checking the lube situation, and just enjoying himself. He was dying to just impale him and go at it like a wild animal, but he was committed to the fantasy. He was pressing the head of his cock on Thor’s hole with his fingers, not slipping it in yet. Thor was squirming, hole fluttering as if trying to suck his cock in.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Mr. Odinson,” he said. “Are you ready? I’ll begin slowly.”

“God, I’m so fucking ready… just fuck me, sir… Go hard, I can take it…”

Loki gave him a solid smack.

“I’ll decide how you are to be fucked,” he said. 

He pushed the head in, and watched Thor biting his bottom lip, teeth sinking in the flesh, eyes pinched shut, a long groan. 

Loki fucked in as if he was doing an actual virgin. A very fucking eager virgin, but a virgin nonetheless. It had Thor whimpering, sobbing, clenching around him, pulling him in. He stood still after he bottomed out. 

“How does that feel, boy,” he whispered.

“So good… So good, sir… You’re so big and thick… god, fuck me please, fuck me… I can’t stand it anymore…”

Loki ground his hips a bit, trying to drag it out. Once he started fucking properly, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

“Ah, Mr. Heimdall…” sighed Thor.

Ok, that’s it. Loki grabbed his hips and began to pound him hard.

“That hard enough for you, boy?” he panted.

“Yes, sir… It’s hard, sir… I can take it harder…”

Loki began to snap his hips. Thor was tense from head to toe, holding position, butt in the air. 

“How’s that, boy…”

“Oh, god…” Thor was growling. “S-so good… so good… sir… More… more…”

“Is this… how you… imagined it…?”

“Ah… so much better… I can feel you… so deep inside…”

Loki took it up another notch.

“ _Ahhh_ , _fuuuuuuck_ … Yes, yes… Like this… Like this… sir… God, harder, harder…”

“You’re such a… greedy boy… Part your knees wider… let me get deeper…”

“Oh, fuuuuck… Come inside me, sir…”

“...Without... protection?” said Loki, sternly. He smacked him hard, leaving a mark. “Haven’t you... been listening, boy? I’ll have to... teach you a lesson…” He grabbed onto Thor’s shoulders and fucked him even harder, flesh slapping wet and loud. Thor was moaning unabashedly now, having completely forgotten where he was, or who might be listening. Quite flattering, that.

“God… sir… Let me touch myself… sir… I need to come… so bad…”

“I’ll tell you when to come,” whispered Loki.

The mattress was creaking wildly. Anyone downstairs wouldn’t have a doubt what was happening in Thor’s room right now. It spurred Loki on.

“Are you going to… think of me… every time… you take a cock, boy?”

“God, yes, sir… Oh god, oh god, oh god…”

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes sir… please, please…”

Loki was right on the verge now.

“You’ve been… such a good boy… Come for me now… come on, come for me, baby…”

Thor’s body seized up, and he burst on the sheets with a long, growly moan, so deliciously strained, so gruff and desperate, Loki nearly came there and then too. He managed to fuck him through it, and keep it up until Thor’s moans thinned down to breathy whimpers.

He wanted to let go so much, but he took his role playing seriously. He pulled out, and jerked himself off, until he came on the crack of Thor’s ass. He gave himself free reign to be as audible as he felt like, mindful of Balder’s enjoyment. He moaned and sighed and whimpered, as he milked his orgasm down to the last jolt of sensation. 

Panting heavily, he gave one last sharp slap to Thor’s butt, still in the air.

“Good boy.”

Thor chuckled darkly, sounding lazy, blissed out.

“Thank you, sir.”

Thor rolled onto his side and watched Loki as he looked inside their bag for the wipes. His eyes were dreamy, dozy. Loki cleaned himself and then his boyfriend.

“You’re fucking incredible, do you know that?” said Thor. "Amazing. Un-fucking-real.”

Loki smiled to himself, feeling not just a bit smug. Thor sounded so satisfyingly undone, so blissfully fucked out. He pulled Loki down for a deep, slow kiss.

“I love you so much,” he whispered. 

Then Thor stared at him in a funny way, that orgasmic haze dispelled by a sudden frown. 

“What’s wrong?” said Loki.

Thor seemed to be thinking hard, concentrating.

“ _What_?” Loki was beginning to freak out now.

“Oh, fuck it,” mumbled Thor, apparently to himself. He jumped out of bed. “Sit here,” he told him, pushing him down onto the bed. And he ran to his jacket, hanging behind the door. “I was going to wait for the right moment, and do it with some… I don’t know, dignity…” he chuckled, speaking towards the door. He was still naked, his ass was still rosy from the fucking and the slapping, and the air in the room reeked of sex. 

Thor returned, with a hop in his step, every shred of his post-orgasmic haziness gone, acting skittish instead.

“You’re fucking scaring me, Thor…” 

Thor chuckled again, took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, and he went down on one knee.

Loki’s eyes widened in astonishment. Then Thor presented to him what he had gone to fetch in the pocket of his jacket: a delicate rosewood box. He opened it, hands shaking.

“Oh my fucking god…” squeaked Loki, covering his mouth.

It was a sleek, minimalist-style white gold band with an encrusted emerald.

“Loki Barnaby Mortimer Laufeyson…”

“Oh sweet Lord Jesus Christ…”

“…Will you marry me?”

Time seemed to stay still for a moment. The next few seconds felt like an age. Loki took in the scene in front of him: Thor Odinson, the King of the Internet, the man of his dreams, the love of his life, stark bollock naked, hair messed up from the pounding he had just received, shaking like a leaf, down on one knee before him, offering him a goddamn engagement ring.

A crowd of agitated voices surged up in his head, all at once, a jumbled mess Loki couldn’t really keep up with: _Well, that must have been a fucking good orgasm… He’s taking the piss… Not broken why fix it… He’s pressured into it… You’re not worth it… Hallucinating… Nobody ever wants to keep you… You selfish prick don’t do that to him… If you really love him…_

Shut the fuck up, all of you! 

“Thor, are you… are you sure?”

The look in Thor’s eyes was so sincere, so full of love. There was no room for doubt, fear, or hesitation.

“Yes, I am,” he didn’t sound shaky now. “Loki, please, marry me.”

Loki mouthed like a fish out of water, already crying like an old spinster aunt. 

“YES!” he exclaimed, knees as wobbly as a bowl of jelly. He took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, Thor, I will marry you.”

Thor had tears in his eyes himself, the sappy idiot, as he worked the ring onto his finger. Loki looked at it, in awe.

They stared at each other like a couple of idiots.

“Now what?”

Thor began to laugh. He crushed him in his arms, and they both fell onto the bed, wrapped around each other like extremely cuddly octopuses. 

“Now we get married, and we live happily ever after, starting now,” he said. 

Loki closed his eyes in bliss, hugged tight, and believed him with all his heart.

 

"I bet Tony will ask us to livestream the wedding night," said Loki after a while.

"And the honeymoon too, if we let him."

 

 

Some time later, with Thor still clinging to him with arms and legs as he snored quietly, Loki, too wired to sleep, heard the unequivocal noises of solitary relief being chased behind the wall. He smirked with mischief, and rolled abruptly. Thor stirred awake, with a groan, just as the noises in the other room intensified.

“Oh, shit!” grunted Thor, and buried his head under the pillow, with a string of curses.

Yes, Loki was wide awake, but surprisingly, it wasn’t because of the jumble of voices trying to make him doubt everything and drive him crazy. At the moment there was just one voice, which sounded like it was shaking its head in dismay, but rather fondly, and all it was saying now was, “Loki, you little shit.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

(The next morning)

 

 

Frigga liked to read cookbooks over breakfast. Out of the fine collection she kept right by the breakfast bar, she had picked a baking one, thinking of Loki. Odin, by her side, was sipping coffee and reading the morning papers on his tablet. The house was still and quiet, with a serenity she had come to appreciate when Balder left for college. But she did enjoy the noises of a full house too, and she was hoping Thor and Loki would be staying for a few days yet.

Speaking of house noises.  The floorboards over their heads creaked and groaned. Then they creaked some more. Then they began to creak at a regular pace.

Frigga threw her husband a side glance. He had frozen with the mug hanging in mid air.

“Well,” he said, and harrumphed.

_Creaky… creaky… creaky… creaky… creaky…_

“Well, repeated Odin. “He has always had a very, uh, healthy libido. Remember how he used to go through his socks? I remember wondering why did he even need sixty pairs, and then it hit me…” He chuckled.

Frigga sighed to herself. She had been so proud of her husband when Thor came out, for proving such a liberal, open-minded, supportive father. Don’t get her wrong, she was still proud that Odin was truly the opposite of a bigot. But she did sometimes almost wish that her husband would be just a tad less… vocal about it?

“I suppose Loki must have quite a considerable sexual appetite himself, if he’s been able to keep up with Thor this last year. I do hope it’s not a problem between them. We must ask them later, perhaps we can offer some advice…”

“We will do no such thing,” said Frigga.

Her husband blinked innocently.

_Creaky-creaky-creaky-creaky-creaky…_

Frigga tried to block it out. Then, a thought.

“Do you think Loki said yes?” she asked, with a wistful smile.

 _Creakycreakycreakycreakycreaky_ …

“I bet he is saying it right now!” said her husband, with a rowdy chuckle.

I give up, thought Frigga. She escaped to the garden, before her husband said anything else.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I invite you to check this (with kind permission of the gif maker), but how about not in the middle of the workplace/public transport, because NSFW as hell. I find it captures the spirit of this fic beautifully... So flattered to have inspired you to make this, thank you very much!
> 
> http://bisexualthors.tumblr.com/post/137738038259/cocky-boys-by-thebookhunter-in-which-thor-and

**Author's Note:**

> I'm incredifishface on Tumblr, in case you want to come and say hi!


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